


The Sounding Sea

by autumnstar



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nonverbal Character, Nonverbal Communication, mermaid au, mermaid!Belle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-07-23 21:27:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 33,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16167272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnstar/pseuds/autumnstar
Summary: Rumplestiltskin finds an injured mermaid among the debris of a shipwreck, who just might have the information he needs to get him to the Land Without Magic.Nominated for Best Creature AU and Best AU Belle in the 2019 TEAs





	1. Chimes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Maplesyrup for being kind enough to beta this for me!! ❤️ And I haven't forgotten about Echoing Hearts. I will be updating that soon!  
> You can also find me @[mareyshelley](http://mareyshelley.tumblr.com) on tumblr

For once, Rumplestiltskin was glad he hadn’t made a deal. Biding his time was something the Dark One did very well, and it had paid off that night. Instead of making a deal with a sailor who’d never be able to pay him back, Rumplestiltskin had waited for the storm that inevitably struck the sailor’s ship and left half its cargo washed up on the shore.

It was the morning after the storm, one of the worst he’d seen in over a hundred years, and the air was still thick. The clouds were black and the sea was grey, and Rumplestiltskin stepped through the gloom over broken crates and frayed rope in search of something very important. If found, it would mean getting to the Land Without Magic years before the Evil Queen decided to cast his curse.

What he actually found among the wreckage was far more precious, although he wouldn’t admit that until some time later.

A woman lay hidden under a plank of splintered wood, tangled in an old net. She must have been on the ship. It tugged at something hidden deep inside him, as he looked down at the tiny brunette; her smooth, pale skin a stark contrast against the dark, jagged rocks of the beach. She looked out of place.

The voice of the darkness told him to leave her; she was nothing to him and couldn’t help him find what he was seeking. But the sea crashed against the shore, and drowned out the voice as it washed away the plank of wood and revealed what was beneath. He saw a flash of blue scales where he should have seen legs, and a great fin where there should have been feet. The fin had a long tear through it, like the ripped sail she lay on top of. Whatever had caused it had also cut a long, red line up the side of her tail, and again he felt something hidden telling him to help her.

She must have been dashed against the rocks, Rumplestiltskin assumed, but a cut like that wouldn’t be easy to treat.

“A pity,” he drawled to himself, straightening up.

Mermaids had their own brand of ancient magic which his darkness couldn't touch; not easily, anyway. She would heal on her own in time, but she wouldn't be able to swim during that time, and a mermaid that couldn’t swim wouldn’t survive for long. That bothered him and he didn't want to think about why. He'd never been interested in her kind before. Merfolk were like fairies of the sea. Beautiful, cunning creatures with unique magic, and not one of them could be trusted.

Why should he want to help her? He'd get nothing out of it but trouble and wasted time, and the darkness agreed.

Still, he couldn't just leave her. He'd never seen a mermaid so close before, and she was a lot smaller than he'd expected one to be. It made her look... fragile, even though he knew mermaids to be nothing of the sort. They were fierce and strong, and perhaps she knew where the treasure he sought was. It was, after all, unusual for a mermaid to be so close to the shore.

“Come on, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin said, as though the unconscious creature could hear him. Before he could rethink his decision, he knelt down and placed his hand on her bare shoulder, carrying them away in a plume of smoke.

 

* * *

 

She remained blissfully unaware of where she was, or the pain that must have been in her tail, as he carried her through the Dark Castle. His magic prepared a bath, full of cold seawater for him to lower her into. He’d never used that washroom, but it was close enough to his own chambers and the tower that he’d be able to keep an eye on her. Mermaids could be tricky things, after all.

He left her there for a few hours, wondering if she’d wake by herself, and it was noon before he returned to her.

Stretched out, her tail only just long enough to reach up out of the end of the tub, she looked even smaller. The water bobbed against her cheek as she breathed, her hair fanned out and covered her chest, and she looked so deceptively delicate that he was annoyed with himself for giving in and helping her. He wondered if he should just take her back to the beach. There was little his magic could do for her to heal her fin, but maybe he could try to fix the cut in her tail. There couldn’t be any harm in that, and he needed her to trust him if he was going to get her to talk about what he sought.

Slipping off his leather coat, Rumplestiltskin hesitantly knelt down beside her. If nothing else, his magic could be used to dull the pain for her. Not that he cared if she was in pain, but he’d rather not have a panicking mermaid flapping and slashing water all over the room. He reached into the water and put the palm of his hand flat over the cut. It was a little longer than the length of his hand, and he could see the ends of the gash knit together as he fed the healing magic into it. The water rippled purple, and the light of his magic danced against the whitewashed walls of the washroom.

She stirred under his touch. Her scales brushed against his hand, and with a surge of power he was pushed backwards and knocked off balanced. He landed on his backside with an indignant grunt and a wave of seawater in his face, and barely had time to register the wide-eyed stare of the mermaid.

They looked at one another, and he tried to ignore that her eyes were as blue as her tail. That little detail wasn’t important. What was important was that he was on the floor, soaking wet, and he could see the panic slowly starting to rise in her. She was shaking. Her eyes only left his once, to look down at her damaged tail, and then her fear burst over. She flailed in the water, churning it up with her tail, as if causing him more inconvenience would somehow carry her back to the sea.

“Stop it, you _ridiculous--!_ ” Another wave of water caught him in the face, and he gave a frustrated growl as he pushed himself back onto his knees. She stopped, frozen like a rock, and stared at him again. This time her eyes were wide in fascination, with only a little trace of fear, and she put her hands on the edge of the bath to lean closer to him.

He must have done or said something, but he couldn’t figure out what. The strange thing reached out to his face, and he leaned back, swatting her hand away.

“I don’t think so,” he said, with his best, sickliest smile. She didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t a genuine one. Her own lips quirked upwards, just briefly, but there was a sadness there. Those large, blue eyes of hers were wet, and not from the seawater she’d thrown everywhere.

“I’m--” Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat. He didn’t care if she was crying. Plenty of people had cried in his presence before, and she wasn’t even a person, she was just… a mermaid. “I’m trying to heal you, you ridiculous creature.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment he thought she was going to try and speak, but then he realised they’d parted in shock and he frowned at her. There were some merfolk, he knew, that never came to the surface. They spent their whole lives underwater, never seeing the humans that lived near their shores. Perhaps she was one of those beings. She wouldn’t know his language, and she wouldn’t have heard another creature speak before.

Which meant she wouldn’t be able to tell him where the ship’s treasure was.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, standing up. “A perfect waste of my time.”

He could feel the mermaid’s pretty eyes on him, and he refused to look at her as he tried to decide what to do. He couldn’t tell her that he’d tried to help her, or that he’d found her unconscious after the storm. He couldn’t even tell her where she was, or that he had absolutely no intention of keeping her. She could return to the sea as soon as he’d got what he wanted and her tail had mended properly. That was where both of their gazes had dropped to; her tail.

The fin was still ripped, the mermaid’s own magic would have to fix that, but the cut across her scales had closed and in its place there was a half-healed scar. That would disappear as well, in time.

Feeling more than a little absurd, Rumplestiltskin pointed down at the cut and caught her attention. There was an intelligence in her eyes, underneath a little frown. She knew he was trying to communicate with her and she was determined to understand.

“I healed you,” he said, even if she wouldn’t understand the words, and lifted his hand. He brought forward the same magic he’d used on her tail, and made the hand glow purple again. Her eyes flicked between the magic and the almost healed cut. She must have known that the scar hadn’t been there before. She must have also realised that, even with her own brand of mermaid magic, no cut could have healed that fast.

Something must have clicked in her brain, because she reached for him again. He lifted his hand out of her reach, but she caught the edge of his sleeve and pulled him back down. He didn’t have much choice but to kneel beside the bath, scowling at the strange little thing. With a serious stare, she met his eyes unflinchingly and put her hand over his chest.

He supposed she didn’t know that no one else on land looked like him. She had no reason to assume that his appearance was something twisted and ugly, and something that most people feared. No one made eye contact with him, except for her, and she touched him without hesitation.

That was his first thought. His second thought was to try and work out what the gesture meant. A lifetime lived in silence must have meant that the silent merfolk had their own ways of communicating. He looked down at her hand on his chest, and realised it was placed directly over his heart. Reacting on instinct, Rumplestiltskin gingerly placed his hand over her own chest, and looked back at her face cautiously. He tried to ignore her bare breasts, his hand carefully placed on her brown curls instead of her naked skin. She smiled, a slightly brighter smile than before, and took her hand away.

Having established that she wasn’t in any danger, and he was trying to help her, the mermaid’s attention drifted around the rest of the room. It was sparsely decorated. The whitewashed walls had turned grey from disuse, and there’d never been any lovely paintings splashed over the top of them like in most castles. The only furniture was the bathtub, a worn washstand with a cracked mirror that had been covered long ago with an old cloth, and a dusty table near the door. The windows, at least, let in enough light so that the room wasn’t nearly as drab as it might have been. Still, he realised too late, the room was hardly inviting.

None of that showed on her face, however. She looked at each bit of furniture with the same awe a child might; seeing everything for the first time. It reminded him of his lost son, and how he’d once delighted in introducing the boy to new things. The mermaid didn’t seem to hate the room at all. She loved it for the simple fact that she’d never seen a room before, and had no idea that it was under-decorated and deteriorating. Bae would have been the same.

But he couldn’t let himself get distracted by that. She knew where _it_ was, and if she helped him then he wouldn’t need other people to remind him of his son. He could have the real thing.

“I’ll bring something to brighten the place up tomorrow,” Rumplestiltskin said without thinking. She looked at him curiously, and he sighed. He had no idea how to mime that to her. “Don’t look at me like that, dearie,” he warned futilely. She watched his lips as he spoke, completely unphased by his words and fascinated by them at the same time. It gave him another thought.

“Do you like the sound?” he wondered out loud, and she tried to mimic the movement of his lips. No sound came out. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said wryly.

The mermaid might not have been able to give him what he wanted, but she was in his castle now, and maybe they could work out a way to communicate that would finally lead him to the ship’s treasure.

With a flourish of his hand, a light tinkling filled the room, and he lifted his hand to show her what he held. It was a simple wind chime, made of fishing wire and rounded pieces of colourful glass, all hanging from a wooden ring. He’d taken it in a deal with an old fisherman and his wife. There was nothing special or magical about it, but he hadn’t been able to say no to the couple who’d been desperate for him to heal their young boy. So he’d taken the wind chime, which the wife had made herself.

The mermaid’s eyes grew wider still, and she carefully reached out to poke at one of the glass pieces. It knocked against its neighbour, and the soft tinging played all over again. She pulled her hand away quickly, as if she feared the sound would somehow catch her, but when she realised there was no danger she held out both hands and he passed it to her.

Curiously, she gave it a little shake, making the glass chime even louder than before. Rumplestiltskin wondered if he’d come to regret giving it to her, then very quickly decided that he would.

Taking it back, he tried to ignore the mermaid’s disappointed pout as he stood up. Without a word, because there was no point in saying anything, he opened one of the windows and hung the chime from the latch. It took a moment of silence, before the breeze outside caught the chime and the glass danced together in a gentle song. He watched it for a moment, distracted, when he heard the gates of his castle swing open. They hit the outer walls with a loud bang, and a single figure in all black sauntered up the path.

Rumplestiltskin frowned.

Behind him, the bathwater splashed and he turned around to find the mermaid leaning over the edge. She used one hand, her arm straight, to lift herself up, and the other hand reached up to carefully shoo him to the side. She wanted to see the window, he realised, and he was standing in her way.

“Rude little thing,” he said, but stepped to the side anyway.

Her happiness when she saw the chime moving and singing all by itself filled Rumplestiltskin with a warmth that he wanted to immediately stamp out. He stepped around the bath without looking at her, and ignored the splashing in the water as she moved around again. He didn’t want to see if she was reaching out for him, or if she’d sat back down. He just wanted to leave, quickly. It wasn’t cowardice to want to leave the pretty thing’s side fast. He had a visitor to see to.

“I’ll be back later, dearie,” he said pointlessly, and left the room with a wave of his hand.


	2. Tea

“I hear you went for a walk along the beach this morning,” the queen said. Regina didn’t turn to face him when he appeared in the great hall. She just straightened the front of her black gown and stood at the head of his table, beside his chair, as if she belonged there. Which was unusual, considering she hadn’t been invited in.

“Did I?” Rumplestiltskin returned, feigning innocence as he stepped around her. She threw him a smile, sharp and only just civil enough to almost be convincing. “Your informant must be slipping. Time to get a new one.”

“Really?” she purred. “Because I also heard the beach was a mess after that awful storm.”

“Yes, I imagine it was.”

“So you weren’t looking for something in the wreckage?”

“What wreckage, dearie?”

Regina pressed her painted lips together. She never had been good at hiding her emotions from him. She was about as subtle as last night’s storm.

“It seems you’ve had a wasted journey,” he said with forced sincerity, the kind Regina would easily be able to see through. Her eyes narrowed and Rumple smiled. “Such a pity.”

“So you didn’t find anything on the beach?” she returned pleasantly. “Not-- Oh, I don’t know. Not a mermaid?”

A knot twisted in Rumplestiltskin’s stomach. He only wanted the little thing so she could show the way to what he’d really been searching for on that beach, but something about Regina knowing of her made him defensive, almost protective of the silent creature. Centuries of carefully crafting his mask to hide how he really felt, and years spent evading Regina’s attempts to one-up him, had Rumple releasing a laugh he really didn’t feel. It was enough to throw the queen, and he grinned at her brightly and twirled his hand.

“And what use have I of a mermaid?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Regina admitted. “Are you that lonely, Rumple?” She pouted. “Did you really have to find a girl who couldn’t run away?”

That stopped him. He was too practiced in dealing with the queen’s taunts and probing to let it show on his face, but her eyes darted to his hands as he pulled them closer to his chest and rubbed his fingers together. She smiled.

“What were you looking for?” she asked again.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer you, dearie.” Stepping around Regina, he slipped into his seat - the only seat at the long table - and flipped his hand in the air. A silver tray complete with teapot, teacup, milk and sugar, appeared on the table in front of him. He picked up the single teacup, aware that he had Regina’s full attention, and prepared his tea. “It seems we’ve come to an impasse.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “There’s just… one problem.” The queen leaned down, putting herself at eye level with him. He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes firmly on the tea set.

“And what’s that?” Rumple asked, and he could clearly see Regina’s answering smile from the corner of his eye.

“You reek of the sea.”

It was his turn to press his lips together, but his sly smirk never left his lips. “You caught me,” he said. Giving Regina one, small victory would be enough for her to accept anything else he might tell her. “I was on the beach,” Rumplestiltskin continued, and took a sip of his tea. “But not for a mermaid.”

“Then why did you take one?”

“I didn’t,” he snapped quickly, perhaps too quickly, but he wasn’t looking at the queen and he took another sip of tea before setting the cup back onto the silver tray. “As I said. Your informant’s slipping.”

“What did you want?”

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Rumple smiled up at the queen, and her satisfied cat-like smile. She really thought she’d won whatever battle she imagined between them.

“Nothing in particular,” he lied easily, flipping his hand dismissively at her. “But that was a big ship. Full of valuable cargo. I thought I might find something.” That second part was true, at least, and Regina saw that. She straightened up and her satisfied smirk slipped away. His smile widened. “Something the matter, your majesty? Was that not what you wanted to hear?”

“I didn’t want to hear anything,” she excused lamely. “I just came to talk to an old friend.”

“Of course.”

“And since I’m clearly not invited to your little tea party,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I think it’s time I took my leave.”

“Oh, it’s past time.”

Regina wouldn’t linger if she knew he was just going to insult her and not give her any more of the information she was fishing for. She bristled, straightening her ridiculously low-cut dress, and marched towards the doors.

“You can’t keep secrets from me forever, Rumple,” she called over her shoulder. “I will get to the bottom of what you were doing on that beach.”

“I’d like to see you try,” he shouted back, just before the doors slammed shut behind her.

He couldn’t explain why, but the queen’s parting promise left a ripple of doubt in his stomach. There was no law that said he couldn’t keep a mermaid, and he wasn’t the type who needed to follow laws, anyway. If Regina did ever find out about his latest catch, why should it matter to him? She couldn’t hurt the mermaid whilst inside the Dark Castle. Not that he cared if the queen hurt her.

Looking down at his cooling tea, Rumple picked it up and took himself back to the washroom in a burst of smoke.

He stood quietly as the magic faded around him, because the mermaid hadn’t noticed him enter. She sat forward in the bath, her tail pulled up to her chest, and ran her fingers delicately over the tear in her fin. Her big blue eyes were round and shining. She didn’t seem to be in any pain, but the sight of her broken fin was obviously causing her some distress.

Without thinking, he waved his hand and suddenly there were two cups on the tray.

“It will heal in time,” he said. She wouldn’t understand the words, but he needed some way of getting her attention and that seemed like the best way.

The curious thing splashed her tail back down into the water and turned her wide eyes on him. She didn’t look fearful, far from it, but she did look more uncertain than she had before. To the side of the room the wind chime tinkled softly and drew her attention from him. She watched the little pieces of glass dancing together, and he took advantage of the distraction, stepping closer.

He moved slowly, concerned that he might startle her and end up with more water on himself than in the bath again. When she noticed him creeping closer, she sat up straighter and fixed the little shell in her hair.

“Try not to splash me again,” he said dryly, perching on the edge of the bathtub and balancing the tray on his lap. She turned to look at him and peered over at the cups. “Tea?” Rumple offered. He wasn’t expecting an answer, and when he only got a raised eyebrow from her, he refilled his own cup and poured tea into the second. She watched him with naked fascination, grabbing his sleeve as he set the teapot down. It took him longer than he’d care to admit to understand what she wanted. She nudged at his elbow until he picked the pot back up, and watched him expectantly.

“There’s not much left,” Rumple frowned at her, but all she did was stare at him with her big blue eyes. It didn’t take long for him to relent. With a sigh and a splash of magic, he tipped the pot up and watched as the mermaid gasped. The tea - cooled by his magic - poured from the spout into the bath, and as soon as it hit the seawater the magic carried it back up into the pot in an endless stream. She reached a tentative hand underneath it, letting the brown water bounce off her skin, and then she turned to the cup on the tray. She picked one up before he could stop her and tried to upend it and its hot contents into her water.

“No, no, _no_ ,” he snapped, seizing her wrist. “Silly thing.”

A flash of fear did cross her eyes then, and she dropped the teacup in her shock. It clinked off the edge of the bath, spilling hot tea across the floor and the side of his boots.

Rumplestiltskin threw her hand away and stood up, lifting the rest of the tea set away from her. The tea was easy to clean with another wave of magic, but the cup was chipped. He set the tray down on the table at the edge of the room, and returned to the side of the bath to pick up the chipped teacup. She reached forward to grasp his wrist, in much the same way he had hers, and he dropped the cup again.

“What _are_ you doing?” he demanded, but his annoyance was dampened by a tremble of uncertainty. She lifted his hand to her face and turned it over. He supposed she was looking at his skin. The unusual, grey-gold scales caught the light as she looked at him, and he wondered how disgusted she was by him. All he saw on her face was awe. She reached up her other hand, smooth and pale and nothing like his, and traced her fingertips over the back of his. The softness of her skin, and the tenderness with which she touched him, filled Rumplestiltskin’s chest with a blossoming warmth.

He pulled his hand away from her and grabbed the cup.

“Strange creature,” he muttered, standing and turning his back on her. She splashed in the water, trying to grab his attention, but he ignored her as he walked back to the silver tray. And then something hit the back of his head. It was only a small something, barely enough to hurt. It felt more like a nuisance, really; a quick tap, and he looked at the floor to see the piece of china that had chipped off the cup and been thrown at his head.

It took him a moment of stunned staring before he realised she was angrily tapping the edge of the bath. He stepped closer and she snatched the cup from him, hiding it under the water.

"Oh, you want to keep it?" Rumple asked with a mock gasp. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t understand him or his sarcasm, she was annoying and all he had was words. "Why didn't you say so?"

She splashed him.

"Don't splash me, dearie, or I'll--!" He cut himself off, and she arched an eyebrow at him. He sent her his nastiest, toothiest grin and leaned forward. "Or I'll drain the bath."

She splashed him again, unaware of his lame threat but still reacting aptly. The cold salt water hit him directly in the face and he jumped back with a growl, making her laugh. It was a quiet laugh, but her whole face lit up in a happy grin and her shoulders shook. It cooled the flames of annoyance burning in his chest.

Rumple deflated, brushing droplets of water from his leather collar, and straightened up.

“Reek of the sea, indeed,” he muttered under his breath. "You're lucky I'm in a charitable mood," he sniffed, and she continued to beam at him. His resolve began to slip as he watched her, a little smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. He needed to distract himself with tea.

Retrieving his cup, he took one sip after another, covering the smile she’d pulled from him. They both watched each other, and then she lifted her chipped cup to her lips and copied him.

“Oh, so you want tea now?” he asked impatiently. She didn’t seem to understand the tone of his voice or the meaning of his words. She just lowered her cup as he lowered his, and Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Fine.”

Grabbing the teapot, he approached her and she held her cup out. She’d caught on to that much, at least. He poured her a fresh cup, turning the tea to a drinkable temperature as it fell into the china. No doubt she wouldn’t know to wait for it to cool, and he was right. As soon as the cup was filled, she lifted it to her lips and took a big mouthful.

Rumple sat, watching her warily as she smiled at him. Her cheeks were puffed up, before she swallowed the tea and took another, smaller sip.

“Fast learner, aren’t we?” he commented, and she mirrored him as he took another sip of his tea.

A thought started to build in his head. If she was quick to learn, then there had to be another way to communicate with the mermaid. She’d already shown him her way of saying ‘thank you’. There must have been other hand signals she knew, or that they could both create. She was his only way of finding what he’d been after on that ship. If she could tell him, it might mean a quicker route to his son than waiting for Regina to be ready to cast the curse.

Flourishing his hand, he plucked two cupcakes out of the air and balanced them on his palm. Her eyes widened every time he used magic, as if she’d heard about it but had never seen it done before. She leaned over to put her cup on the floor and reached out for one of the cakes. They were both rich chocolate cakes, with melted chocolate poured over the top. She turned it in her hand, looking at it like it was some great treasure that needed to be taken care of.

Rumplestiltskin lifted his hand to get her attention, and she turned her big blue eyes on him as he took a healthy bite out of the cupcake. Her lips parted as he chewed the sweet treat, and for a moment he didn’t think she was going to copy him, before she took a huge bite out of her own cake. Her lips were coated in chocolate and a dollop of it ended up on the tip of her nose, but she didn’t notice. She chewed happily and smiled at him, and he felt his treacherous smile tugging at the corners of his lips again.

He licked his lips and she copied him, realising the mess she was in. She rubbed at her face, as a red flush rose up from her neck and covered her cheeks. Rumplestiltskin wondered if the tea had been too hot for her. Maybe next time he’d bring her a different drink; something colder that would suit the temperatures she was used to.

Not that there would be a next time. This was just an experiment to see how easy it was to communicate with her. He wouldn’t bring her treats. He’d bring her the food she needed to survive and that would be all.

"Right," Rumple said abruptly, standing up. "I have work to do. I'll be back later."

Her smile fell. For a second he wondered if maybe she could understand what he said, but then he realised she was probably just reacting to him stepping towards the door.

“Ah… I’ll be back later,” he repeated uselessly, and fled the room.


	3. Belle

She’d been in the company of that strange man for five days. That was five days her father must have been worrying himself sick. From what she could remember, and what she’d been able to discern from the man helping her, she’d been injured in the storm. What if her father thought the storm had killed her? The merfolk of Avonlea would no doubt think their lord’s daughter had simply swam off again, or that she was trying to escape her betrothed, but her father would assume the worst.

She’d always wanted adventure, and she supposed this was it; even if she hadn’t seen anything beyond that box.

So far, the human had visited her every day, bringing her pretty trinkets and things that made delicate sounds, and sweet food she’d never seen or tasted anything like before. She’d tried to communicate with him using her hands, but he clearly didn’t have the patience for that. She couldn’t understand his noisy way of trying to communicate back, and that seemed to frustrate him even more. It wasn’t her fault. She’d never met a land creature before. She’d never even seen one before being plucked from the sea and put in that large box, with only a limited amount of sea water.

He kept disappearing in a burst of magic, and she wondered why no one had ever told her that humans could do that. Just like she’d never been told how pretty humans were, with their shining gold skin and large amber eyes. It seemed to confuse him whenever she tried to get close enough to inspect him. Then he’d pull away and leave the room quickly, but he always came back.

On that particular day, she had her head under the water when he returned to her box. He had something rolled up under his arm, and peered over the bath to see what she was doing. She smiled at him through the rippling surface, before sitting up to see what he wanted. He unravelled the thing under his arm, and without thinking she reached out to touch it.

“You’ll ruin it,” he sounded, and pulled it from her.

Waiting until she dropped her hands, he lifted the sheet again and she got a better look at what it was. A map. She’d seen them before, but down under the sea they were scratched into rocks, not painted onto the flimsy material that bent easily in his hands. He cautiously brought it closer to her, and she kept her hands under the water. That seemed to please him.

He pointed to a spot on the map with a clawed finger, and she instantly recognised it as the shore near her home. She knew two of the names, written in old script; _Avonlea_ , where the painted blue water was the darkest, and _the Enchanted Forest_ , where everything was green and covered by his hand. She knew the jagged rocks along the shore, and the curve of the white cliffs, but she couldn’t work out why he was pointing there.

“Do you recognise this?” he tried to communicate, but the noise was foreign to her and she had no idea how to respond. He lifted a long stick made of a green material she’d never seen before. It had a completely smooth service and a cluster of clear jewels along the bottom where he held it. It was an odd, pretty thing, and looked out of place in his hand. She reached for it, and he batted her hands away again. “This isn’t for you, dearie.” He made a strange, high-pitched sound and grinned at her. She smiled back. She didn’t know what he was trying to tell her, but he’d helped her so far, and brought her things to decorate her box. She liked him.

“This,” he held up the pretty stick again, “is similar to the thing I’m looking for.” He used the stick to point back at the map, to the same spot on the shore. “ _Here_. Have you seen it before?”

Looking between the map, stick, and his expectant face, she could feel his impatience rising. His brows slowly drew down over his big amber eyes, and she felt herself drawn into them rather than the objects he’d brought for her. She stared into his eyes, and he stared back into hers, his frown softening as her heart began to pound. She wished she had as captivating eyes as his.

That’s when the memory caught her. It swam slowly into her mind, like sand and dirt had been churned up and the murk was steadily beginning to settle. She heard a storm raging on the surface, the flash of something bright lighting up even the depths of the sea. A ship was struggling in the swell, near the shore, and crates were falling off the deck. A whole manner of objects drifted from them, dragged down by the pull of the sea. She remembered boxes of cloth, shining metals, and a black stick similar to the one he was holding. She pointed at it suddenly, and whatever tension had built between them burst. That’s what he was asking about, she was sure of it, although she couldn’t think why.

“Yes, yes, this wand. Have you seen one before?”

Snatching it from his hand, she pushed it down into her water and felt a pang of dismay when he growled and took it back from her. “You can’t _keep_ it.”

Helplessly, she mimed waves with her hands. Holding his attention, she reached into the water and picked up the china cup he’d given her. She bobbed it along the surface of the water like a boat, and he seemed to understand. With a twirl of his hand, more of the purple magic appeared around him and he held out a little toy boat. She took it from him, a tiny bell on the top of it tinkling, and plucked the stick from him to balance it on top.

“I know it was on the ship, you silly creature. I want to know where--” She knocked the stick into the water and he stopped making noise to watch it sink to the bottom. It settled down beside her tail, and she reached down to pick it back up.

“It’s in the sea.” Taking that to mean he wanted his stick back, she handed it to him with a smile, and he gave her a reluctant one as he took it back. “Thank you.”

He gulped, and with an unsure hand he reached out and pressed his palm to her chest, over her heart and hair. Her smile brightened into a grin, and she leaned forward to place her hand on his chest, where the deep V of his clothes hung open.

_You’re welcome._

Pulling his hand away quickly, he smoothed down the front of his waistcoat, and she wondered why he covered himself up so much. Some merfolk wore clothing, of shells or thin netting, but the deeper into the sea the merfolk lived the less they wore. Clothes were only a burden so far down. She supposed his clothes must slow him down terribly. Maybe that was why he used magic to pop in and out of her box.

She slipped back down into the tub, and he watched her sink lower, until only her eyes peeked out of the top of the water. His lovely eyes flicked over the rest of her body, obscured by the water and her long hair fanning out over her chest. The little boat he’d given her bobbed along in the water, the tiny bell ringing happily whenever it hit a ripple. He still seemed unsure of something, and once he’d looked her over, his eyes snapped back up to her face and stayed there.

She stretched her tail up out of the water, just to see what he’d do. The big rip down her fin didn’t hurt anymore, and he didn’t seem to mind how ugly it looked. He glanced at her tail, taking a step back from it, and her responding laugh bubbled in the water.

“I can’t heal it.” There was that strange way of communicating again. She wished she could get through to him. Didn’t he know she couldn’t understand him, or did he just think she couldn’t make those sounds back?

Lowering her tail back into the water, disappointed, she picked up the toy boat and gave it a little shake. The bell rang louder and she smiled. She’d heard ships bells before, but only ever from below in the water. The sound was much crisper and louder on the surface. She shook it again and it rang louder still.

“I’d forgotten how much you liked sound.” She looked at him, and the way he watched her with the toy. It was either with annoyance or amusement that he took the boat from her. She tried to grab it, but he held it out of her reach and produced something else from thin air. He held out a much bigger, golden bell with a wooden handle.

Taking it from him before he could hold that from her, too, she gave it an experimental shake and gasped. A loud ringing echoed around the room, far louder than she’d expected. She shook it again, harder, and again. The cheery sound flooded the room, until she couldn’t hear anything else.

“Stop that!” His annoyed growl and strange language were completely drowned out, and she grinned at him. He tried to grab it from her but she leaned back quickly. She lifted herself up onto the edge of the tub, as he leaned over her and the water and tried to grab the bell again.

With no more room to lean out of his reach, he took hold of her wrist and the ringing stopped. She sighed, disappointed again, and he scowled down at her. Then something else flashed in his eyes. He looked down between them, to where his strange clothes pressed against her bare chest, and ripped himself away from her so fast she thought he might slip and fall down. He took the bell with him, and she sank back down into the tub.

He stared at the golden bell in his hand, tracing his nails along the pattern engraved into the rim. She bit her lip as she watched him, worried that he hadn’t liked her teasing. Or maybe it was just the sound of the bell he hadn’t liked. She couldn’t tell. But she at least had a way to distract him from his annoyance.

Lifting herself up, she pointed to the bell and caught his attention. She pointed to the bell again, and then to herself. The simple action caught him off guard. His big amber eyes widened and then narrowed in the same second. She smiled at him and pointed at the bell and then herself for a third time.

“Yes,” he sounded at last. She let out a breath and leaned against the edge of the tub, looking up at him. “You are a loud little thing. Even if you can’t speak.” He rang the bell back at her, just once, but there was an amused smirk on his face and she grinned at him. He was teasing her back!

" _Belle_ ," he sounded, drawing out her name. She eagerly nodded, and he looked pleased with himself for understanding her.

After a moment, when he offered her nothing in return, Belle pointed at him and shrugged her shoulders. His frown returned in reply, and she had to jab her finger at him again for him to understand what she was asking. Then the frown was gone and he grinned at her. With a twirl of his hand, he placed it over his heart and bowed.

“Rumplestiltskin.”

_Rum-pel… shtilt-schen._

He tilted his head as she tried to mouth the unusual sound. If the little frown in return was anything to go by, she’d got it very wrong. Her shoulders sagged.

“Rumple- _stilt-_ skin,” he repeated, and when she failed to mouth it again he sighed heavily. “Rumple will do.”

It was an unusual name, but then she knew no other human names to compare it to. Maybe it was perfectly normal on land to have such a long name. She played with a lock of her hair, as she tried to mouth his name again, and his eyes dropped to her chest. His gaze lingered there, but when she smiled at him he cleared his throat and rubbed his thumb and fingers together.

They stared at one another, as the chimes hanging in the window sounded softly, and Rumple tried to offer her a smile, which Belle returned happily.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked.


	4. Love

The queen paced back and forth in her high tower. Rumplestiltskin sat at her dressing table, waiting for her long rant to finally end. She barely stopped to draw breath, and so far she hadn't given him a chance to say anything himself.

He flitted through the odd trinkets on the table, along with a few perfume bottles, and found a golden music box hidden behind a vase of flowers. He picked it up, upended the few bits of jewellery in it, and turned it over. The inside was lined with a deep, red velvet, and two dancing figures in gold span around in the centre. It played a sweet, slow tune that felt both familiar and new to him, and cut out the sound of Regina’s ranting.

It gave him a moment to let his mind wander back to the mermaid living in his castle. Belle had been there for over a week, with very little change to her injured fin, but they had made progress on her helping him. She knew where the wand was, from what he could understand, and they'd been slowly working on a way to communicate without words.

She was a clever thing.

"Are you even listening?" Regina snapped, slamming the golden lid shut and cutting off the music.

"Yes, yes, dearie." He waved his hand at her and stood up, coming back to the present as he carefully placed the box down. She took a step back, her hands on her hips, but he offered her nothing until he was sure she was done talking. “And what is it you want me to do about your little… problem?”

The queen took a deep breath through her nose and threw her hand up at him. “Well, I was hoping you’d have a solution.”

Rumplestiltskin tried to recall what Regina had been going on about. Something about Snow White, as usual, people loving her and protecting her. As usual. _Oh_ , of course.

“You want the people to love you,” he placed his hand theatrically over his heart, looking back to her, “And only you.”

“Can you do that?” she asked hopefully. He grinned at her, watching the hope build in her eyes.

“Of course not, dearie,” he giggled as her shoulders dropped and she pressed her lips together. She really hated being toyed with. Which is exactly why he kept doing it. “No magic can create _lurv_. Only you have the power to win their love. The old fashioned way.”

“I should have known talking to you about love would be a waste of time.”

“A waste of both our time,” Rumple threw back. “You of all people should know,” he stepped up to her, into her personal space, and smiled slyly, “the complications of lost love.”

That was all it took for Regina to lapse into silent. She was furious, her fists clenched as tightly as her jaw, but she didn’t look at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she’d been hurt by the reminder of her lost love.

“There must me something,” the queen insisted. She made a valiant effort to rally; to squash down her pain and focus on her thirst for revenge. That was something she’d had a lot of practice at, and something he was ready to take full advantage of. “Some way to… stop them from loving _her_ instead of me.”

“Oh, certainly. There are many ways to _stop_ love,” Rumplestiltskin acknowledged with a wave of his hand. He couldn’t guarantee that Regina’s plan would work, even with the help of his magic. In fact, if he was a different sort of man, he would have told her outright that it wouldn’t work and to try something else, but he wasn’t and Regina would never have listened if he was.

“Stop love?” Regina repeated slowly, as if the idea was genius.

“I could give you a small potion,” he explained, holding up an imaginary bottle. “Pour two drops,” he mimed pouring the imaginary bottle over an invisible cup, “into her drink, and the princess will start to question everything and everyone she loves.” Rumplestiltskin grinned for added measure, showing his teeth, and Regina grinned back. “Slowly, her love will turn bitter, and she will turn away the ones that love her the most.”

“How am I going to get it into her drink?”

“That’s for you to figure out, dearie.”

The queen took only a second to contemplate his offer; the sound of the effects of the potion far outweighing the problem of getting close enough to Snow White to poison her.

“And what do you want in return?” Regina asked.

“Oh,” Rumple shrugged and glanced around her room. His eyes fell once more on to the music box, and the way the light glinted off the gold decoration. It really didn’t fit Regina’s castle, so he picked it up. “How about this?”

“That old thing?” She curled her lip, confused, and that was exactly why it was perfect to take. He didn’t always ask for payment that would further his plan. Sometimes he would ask for things that were unrelated, to throw people off.

“Do you have something else you’d like to offer?” he returned, and that was enough for Regina to agree without questioning him again.

“No. We have a deal.”

 

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin couldn’t see Belle when he entered the washroom. She was curled up into a small ball under the water, with only a little peak of her shoulder breaking the surface. She was sleeping, he realised.

In the time she’d been there, he’d read up on what few books on the merfolk he had. It amounted to two, thick volumes of books on their customs and a little about their history. Belle didn’t have much to show her rank, but a couple of shells in her hair were enough to tell him she had some sort of status. The way she carried herself, so daintily and carefully, told him it was a high status.

Whoever her parents were, they’d no doubt be desperate to get her back. But as he leaned over the tub and watched the tiny, sleeping mermaid, he pushed that thought to the back of his mind.

Belle couldn’t go back to the sea, not while her tail needed time to heal. Until then, she could stay with him.

Rumple reached out with a hesitant hand and gently tapped her shoulder. Her eyes slowly flickered open, unfocused, until she turned to look up at him and smiled.

Sitting up, Belle brushed her hair out of her face and stretched her arms over her head. Rumple looked away. He tried to ignore the arch in her back, or the droplets of seawater trailing over her bare breasts. As she dropped her hands, she propped them on the edge of the bath, covering her nakedness.

“Now that you’re awake,” he said pointedly, sitting on the edge of the tub. “I have something for you.” They'd been trying new ways to communicate, but nothing spoke louder or clearer than magic. With a wave of his hand, he presented her with the music box, and watched for her reaction. Her eyes always widened in gleeful awe when she saw the purple cloud of his magic, and she eagerly plucked the gift from his hand.

In the bright light of the washroom, the golden swirls and vines covering the box were a bright, glinting yellow. She ran her fingertips lightly over the smooth surface, and he mimed opening the lid. Belle copied him, opening the lid as he showed her, and gasped when the music started to play. She almost dropped the box in her excitement, as the room was filled with the delicate rhythm of the song. She watched in fascination as the little couple, frozen in a waltz, span around together.

"Well," Rumple said, when he realised he was staring just as intently at Belle as she was at the dancers. "I have work to do."

He stood, but Belle caught his wrist and tugged on it until he turned around to face her. She pointed at her chest, pat her hand flat over her heart, and pointed at the box.

 _I love it_.

Rumple nodded and took a step back. “Good,” he said pointlessly. “That’s… good.”

Leaning over the edge of the bath, Belle put the box on the floor, still open, and something told him to stop backing away from her. He pulled the table across from the edge of the room, and lined it up with the end of the bath. She watched him intently, never taking her big blue eyes off him as he put the music box on the table. The lullaby-like music still filled the room, but it was considerably more bearable than the great bell he’d given her. She’d delighted in ringing that ridiculous thing more than once since he’d given it to her.

She eyed him, raising an eyebrow, and with a sigh Rumple set the bell on the table, too. She smiled at him, content, and tapped her hand on the edge of the bath for him to sit back down.

“I’m busy,” he insisted, waving his hand at her dismissively, but she tapped the bath again and smiled at him. He wondered if she sometimes deliberately misunderstood him. “Fine. I suppose I could stay for… a few more minutes.” He scowled at her for good measure, but she wasn’t deterred. Her smile stayed happily in place as she watched him sit back down beside her.

She pointed at him, then at the music box. When he only continued to frown at her and shook his head, Belle pointed at the dancing couple, then poked him in the chest.

“I don’t dance, dearie,” he answered, shaking his head again and wrinkling his nose. Her bottom lip stuck out in a disappointed pout, and she slumped back against the bath. He had no idea why that would upset her, but she bounced back quickly. For a creature without words, Belle had an awful lot to say. She switched between pointing at him or herself, at the window, the bell, and anything else that caught her eye. Belle mimed and signed things, and mostly he could figure out what she was trying to say, but when she pointed between the two of them and patted her hand against her chest, Rumple had no idea what she was trying to ask.

A few more minutes soon turned into a few hours. The room had gradually grown darker as Belle continued to talk and he did his best to answer, until the only light came from the glow of the moon through the open window. A cool, night breeze tickled past the chimes as it entered the room, and Rumple wondered if the cold bothered her. It didn’t seem to. The water in the bath must have been freezing, but Belle happily leaned over the edge to look down to where he’d sat himself on the floor; his back resting against the tub.

Throughout their conversation he’d wondered if there was some way to tell her about his son, or the curse, or the reason he wanted the Black Fairy’s wand. It was his mother’s wand, and although she’d never been a mother to him, the thing should work as well for him as it had her. It meant a possible way, a quicker way, of getting to the Land Without Magic without having to rely on Regina and the curse.

The only problem was he had no idea how to sign any of that to her. She just knew he wanted a wand.

He thought again of the life she must be missing, separated from her own family. His company couldn’t compare to that of the parents she’d left behind in the sea, and being trapped in that tub wouldn’t take her mind off them. Belle had an inquisitive mind. She would have enjoyed the freedom to explore the castle, to distract her. He could figure out a way to help her leave that room. He could move her to another washroom, or any room. He could take her to any room in the castle as long as she had water, and that decided it.

Standing up, Rumple closed the music box and turned to Belle.

“Would you like to see another room?” he asked, pointing between her and the door. She followed his hand, and he could see her trying to work out what he meant. When it finally clicked, she pointed to her tail and shrugged.

 _How_?

As far as he could see there were two ways to take her from that room; he could use magic, or he could carry her. Magic would be quicker and easier, but if he carried her she would see more of the castle, and despite having to be close to him, Rumple suspected she would prefer that.

Steeling himself, he held out his arms to lift her up, and waited for Belle to turn him down. But she didn’t. Ducking her head to hide her shy smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he slipped his around her back and under her tail. The cold seawater of the bath seeped into his clothes and pressed against his skin. Her wet hair, where she rested her head under his chin, brushed against his neck and sent a shiver through him.

This was a bad idea.


	5. Pearl

Being carried through part of Rumple's home had been wonderful. It was too dark for her to catch a glimpse of the world outside the windows, but all of that was soon forgotten when he took her to a room he called the library.

Her tub was already up there waiting for her, along with the table and the small collection of things he’d brought her, but she wasn’t as happy to see them as she thought she’d be. Belle’s stomach dropped when he made to lower her back into the water, and she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. He straightened up immediately, and although he was probably confused, she hid her head under his chin so he couldn’t see her face. She liked him holding her. Rumple was warm, and he must have been very strong for him to carry her so effortlessly through the castle.

That was a few days ago. Rumple had spent most of their time together since then reading through books and tomes and scrolls, when he wasn’t spinning gold. He appeared to be searching for something specific, but Belle had no idea what. They sat in companionable silence while he did his research or span, and she flipped through some books he left for her on her little table. Belle did her best to learn his written language, but she’d only been able to pick up a handful of words, and she mostly relied on the illustrations to tell her what the page was about.

“I can’t see you, dearie,” he sang on the third day they were there, when she waved to get his attention. His back was to her, as he leant over a desk, but she could clearly see him shake his head.

Puffing out a breath, Belle lifted herself up onto the edge of the bath and slapped her tail down into the water. She’d learnt quickly that that got his attention. He'd ranted at her the first time, even though he knew she couldn’t understand, and pulled a pile of books away from her bath.

“What is it?” Rumple turned to her finally, his face screwed up in annoyance. She didn’t know what he said, but she assumed he was letting her know she’d won his attention.

Smiling at him patiently, she held up the book she’d been trying to read. It was some sort of text about human anatomy, but none of them looked like Rumple, and she was starting to wonder if he was a different type of human. A magical one. She wished her father hadn’t been so against talking about humanity. She vaguely remembered her mother talking about them. She’d ventured to the surface once or twice, and Belle’s father hadn’t liked that. The only other person she knew who'd been to the surface was Ariel. Her friend would have fared better with the humans than Belle was. She knew a lot more about them and their strange gadgets.

On the page she showed him there was a drawing of two people standing together. She only wanted to know why they didn’t look like him, with their plain skin, small eyes, and clawless fingers, but he looked nervous. She couldn’t work out why. Belle was the one who’d never seen some of those… parts before. They didn’t make her nervous. But he fluttered his fingers together and parted his lips, and before she could try to ask him what was wrong Rumple pulled the book from her and slammed it shut.

“Where did you get this?”

Belle shook her head, _I don’t understand_ , and he growled with frustration. He pointed to the book, then threw his hands open to signal the rows of shelves housing all the other books.

“Where did you get it?”

She frowned and jabbed her finger at him.

Grumbling something about the “damn castle” Rumple turned his back on her and threw the book down onto his work table. And that was that. Their brief conversation was over and she had no idea why.

Stubbornly, Belle leaned over the edge of the tub and tried to reach the table. She gripped the bath with one hand and used her tail for balance, but she couldn’t quite make it. In a rush of irritation she pushed herself further forward and promptly fell flat on the floor with a loud thud. It didn’t hurt, she landed on a rug, but her pride was bruised when she rolled onto her back and saw Rumple staring down at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“ _What are you doing_?” he sounded, snapping out of his shock. He knelt down beside her and her cheeks burnt hot with embarrassment. She could see the red spreading down the top of her chest and shoulders as she wrapped her arms around him. At least she had a chance to grab the book. Belle held it behind his back so he couldn’t see, and peered over his shoulder to try to find the page again.

“Silly thing,” Rumple muttered, lowering her back into the water. She let her arms fall away from him, and he looked from her so fast that he didn’t notice she’d got her book back. His own cheeks were a little darker, but it was nothing compared to the bright blush she was sure was on her own face. Why would he be embarrassed?

“I’m trying to help you.” He walked away from her and started pacing. Belle watched him over the top of her reclaimed book, wondering just how different he was from the illustrations underneath all those clothes. Was it just his skin that was different, or was there more hidden away?

Rumple caught her watching him. He paused mid-step, their eyes met, and he scowled.

“Belle.” She recognised that sound, the way he said her name, but he drew the sound out hesitantly and she lowered her book. He started talking again, moving his hands so animatedly that she struggled to keep up with what he was saying. All she caught was the end, when he pointed at his legs. Maybe he was talking about her book, Belle thought, and the illustrations. Was he offering to show her?

Biting her lips, she moved to the front of the tub, closer to where he was standing, and gave him a tiny nod.

“Good,” Rumple nodded back. “Yes.”

Turning his back on her, he returned to his desk and Belle felt the buzz of nerves dancing in her stomach settle into a disappointed confusion. She was sure she’d understood what he was offering, but maybe he’d changed his mind. She gripped the edge of the bath to lift herself up again, when he span around and held up a thread of gold. It glinted in the sun’s light, bright and yellow, and she spotted what looked like a tiny, white pearl hanging from it.

It was a pretty thing, but she didn’t understand what that had to do with his body.

He approached the side of the bath slowly and offered her his hand. Belle looked at it, wondering what he wanted her to do. Was he asking for the book back? Did he want to hold another of her trinkets? His fingers drew a small circle in the air, and she looked up to Rumple’s face to find him smiling hesitantly at her. He looked just as uncertain as she felt, but at least she understood now.

Deciding that he’d tell her if she was wrong, Belle lifted her wet hair into a messy bun on top of her head and turned her back to him. She heard the shuffling of his footsteps, with the creak of leather, as he knelt down behind her. The warmth that came from him as he leaned over her sent an excited pulse down through her body, and she pushed herself closer to the edge of the bath. His hands came around her shoulders, careful not to touch her, and Belle held her breath as he fixed the little necklace around her neck. A tingle of magic swirled around her chest, fuelling the warmth that had risen in her cheeks.

She twisted around to face him as he stood back up, stunned but not hurt. It didn’t hurt. The magic buzzed down through her body, like being suddenly swept up into a current of warm water, surrounded by bubbles and the pull of the sea. It swirled around her and settled low in her belly. The seawater in her little tub lit up in a soft, blue light, and Belle watched in open-mouthed wonder as it settled and she saw that her tail was gone.

She’d completely misunderstood what Rumple had offered her.

Drawing her knees up out of the water, Belle gasped to find that the legs - _her_ legs - were very real. They were pale and smooth, with not a scale in sight, and she lifted them to find her new feet at the end. She’d read about them in her book, and she wondered how similar Rumple’s would look.

She peeked over the edge of the bath, at his feet hidden by those tall boots he always wore. Her eyes trailed up his leather-clad legs, and up and up until she found his face. He’d looked away from her at some point, to stare at his workbench, and Belle frowned.

Pushing herself up onto her knees, she tried to stand. Her legs were unsteady, but she was determined to get his explanation. She gripped the edge of the tub for support, and he couldn't not look at her then. Her legs shook from hip to toes as she settled her weight on them, but she only managed to stand for a second or two before they gave way underneath her and she slipped.

She prepared herself for another tumble onto the library floor, but strong arms wrapped around her middle and held her up. Rumple lifted her from the bath, settling her carefully in front of him. Belle was thankful for that. She wanted to try to walk, but her legs were too weak to hold her up and she wasn’t even sure she knew _how_. So he held her firmly in his arms, her chest pressed flat against his. He looked troubled by that, and she tried to wriggle free of him when she saw the pained frown on his face. Belle pushed her hands against his chest, making him tense, but he didn’t let go of her.

She didn’t want to hurt him, and if he didn’t want to hold her he didn’t have to. She’d figure out walking by herself. Belle wriggled harder.

“Stop it!” Rumple snapped. “You won’t be able to stand.” There was enough of a warning in his voice to give her pause. She looked up at him and their eyes met. He was frowning, but he didn’t look uncomfortable anymore, just concerned.

Belle started shivering and wrapped her arms underneath his heavy jacket. The chill of the library hadn’t bothered her before, but now the cold air licked at her wet skin. She wondered if that’s why humans, like Rumple, wore so many clothes. They must have been cold all the time.

Realising her problem as she trembled against him, he pulled her over to his table. She tried to move her feet in time with his, but she tripped and stumbled, and the only thing that stopped her from falling again was his arm holding her against him. The other arm reached out and drew a large circle in the air. A cloud of smoke swirled around them, hugging her chilled skin, and faded away to reveal a large blanket draped around her shoulders. It was a lovely deep blue, with golden tassels on the corners. Belle lifted her arms to look at the soft material, and Rumple groaned. He pulled it tight around her at the front, covering her body completely, and gripped her hips to lift her up onto the table.

He looked concerned. It made her wonder why he wanted her to have legs in the first place, and it didn’t take Belle long to come to the conclusion that he must have wanted her to stay. It made sense when she thought about it. He’d taken care of her. He’d given her a safe place to stay while her tail slowly healed. She wouldn’t have stood a chance in the sea. Her fin was so badly torn she was certain she wouldn’t have been able to swim home.

There were far worse fates than staying with someone she cared for, and who cared about her in return. Like marrying Gaston. She would miss her father and Ariel dearly, and she supposed she could always take the necklace off to visit them, but the idea of staying with Rumple became more and more desirable the longer she spent with him. Think of all the adventures they could have together.

She smiled at him, but he didn’t make eye contact again, and he didn’t try to communicate with her. He fussed at the front of the blanket instead, straightening it and pulling at it and tucking it in, until he was sure nothing but her head and her toes were on show. Belle shook her head and pushed at his worrying hands. She may have been cold, but she wanted a proper look at her legs now that she was out of the water.

He gave a strange, strangled noise when she threw the blanket open. He must have been very worried about the cold, and it explained why he always wore so much, but that wasn’t going to stop her from looking at her new legs. They were too short to reach the floor from where she sat, and she had to lean forward to look down at her toes hanging in the air. She gave them a wiggle and was promptly covered up in the heavy blanket again.

“Keep it on.”

She pulled it off.

“ _Belle_.”

She smiled at him and he straightened up. His hands fluttered up in front of his chest, as if he couldn’t decide if he wanted to use magic and escape, or reach out to cover her with the blanket again. She didn’t want to be wrapped up. He seemed to realise that she would only push the blanket off again if he tried to pull it back up. If she really had to cover herself, she wanted clothes like his to keep her warm.

Belle pointed at him, and then at herself, but he kept his big amber eyes firmly on her face.

“What?” He shook his head.

She reached out to tug on his sleeve, and he looked so relieved she could see his shoulders relax under all his many layers of leather. He nodded and took a step back, out of her reach. Belle let her hand drop, swinging her new legs freely back and forth, and waited for him to bring her some clothes.

That’s what she was expecting him to do, anyway. What Rumple actually did was wave his hands at her, and watch as the blue velvet blanket moulded against her skin. It hugged her tight around her arms and waist, and flared out over her hips into a long skirt. The cut of the neckline was a gentle, curved slope that kept most of her chest hidden, and the golden tassels became a loose belt draped over her hips. She definitely couldn’t see her feet anymore, but at least she wasn’t wearing as many layers as Rumple himself. The dress was soft, and Belle kicked out her legs, enjoying the strange feeling of the fabric on her skin.

Rumple let out a high giggle and held out his hand to her. She accepted it, smiling brightly at him, and jumped off the table. Her knees nearly bent under her weight, but he was quick to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her upright. Belle wasn’t worried about falling again. She was more worried about the length of her skirt. The hem of her dress brushed along the ground, and she knew that she’d trip and fall flat on her face if she tried to walk in it.

Placing her hand gingerly on his shoulder, Belle hugged herself closer to him and smiled. She could definitely get used to this. She wanted to stay.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warned, but she continued to smile at him. “I mean it--” She gasped and his arms tensed around her. “What, what is it?”

Shaking herself free of his embrace, she used the table to pull herself to her bath. It would have been easier to have Rumple help her across, but Belle was in such a hurry to reach her little pile of gifts from him that she’d rushed off without thinking. She fell to her knees, barely registering the chill that crept up through her skirts from the cold stone floor, and plucked her little music box from her collection.

She looked at Rumple over her shoulder and lifted her hand to beckon him closer. He was a little too far away for her to reach, but he stepped forward and curled his fingers around hers.

“Belle?”

Setting the little box on her lap, she lifted the lid and grinned in delight when the little couple inside started spinning. The library was flooded with their soft, tinkling melody. It was a beautiful sound. She’d never heard anything like it under the sea, but it still somehow felt familiar to her.

She held it up for him to see, huffing out a breath when he only frowned down at it. Didn’t he see? She had legs now. Real legs that would be able to run and jump and _dance_. Belle slipped her hand from his and pointed at the little couple in blue and gold. It took him a moment. She could see the deep frown start to soften, and his eyes widened. He took a step back.

“I have work to do,” he said, unhelpfully. Belle shook her head, to remind him she didn’t understand, but he didn’t pay her any attention. He closed the lid of her box and set it back on the little table by her bath.

A little ball of hurt and disappointment settled in the back of her throat. She tried not to let it show as she struggled to her feet, and she tried to fight the urge to shrug Rumple off when he helped her. She wouldn’t be able to stand without his help. It would be silly to let her emotions and pride get in the way.

He wrapped his arm around her middle and guided her to a long chair on the other side of the library. She let him sit her down, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor, and didn’t protest when he let go of her.

“I’ll...” Rumple fell silent, and he looked troubled when she lifted her eyes to meet his. He straightened up and swept his hand towards the staircase, then took another step away from her. “I’ll return later. Try not to make a mess while I’m gone.”


	6. Music

He’d acquired the necklace from Snow White. All it had taken was a quick warning that Regina intended to poison her drink, and she'd offered Rumplestiltskin the enchanted pearl without question. She was even grateful, although suspiciously so.

Mermaid magic rejected dark magic. Rumple wouldn't have been able to use his magic to alter Belle's body in any way - to heal her or to give her legs - but the necklace contained no dark magic. It was the perfect loophole, and it meant stopping Regina from getting her revenge on Snow White. Pushing the queen closer to casting his Dark Curse was another bonus.

Now Belle had had her legs for two days, thanks to his bargaining, and rather than wandering freely around the castle as he’d expected her to, the mermaid had only used her new freedom to move around the library.

Rumplestiltskin’s library had a wide and varied collection of books. Some of them had illustrations, some were leatherbound, and some were so old they were fraying and falling apart. He could try to teach her to read, she was a quick learner, but Belle seemed to have got the hang of it fairly quickly by herself. That, or she was only looking at the illustrations.

She powered through one book after another; books on princesses trapped in far off castles, books about cooking, books about dragons and knights, and factual books about humans. Those were the most worrying. He’d had to hide one particular volume with a detailed sketch of a naked human, after she kept holding it up and pointing at him. He didn’t know what she wanted, and he didn’t want to know. It was now sitting on one of the highest shelves where she couldn’t reach it.

Then there was the more colourful book she’d found. Being shown anatomical books by his inquisitive mermaid was one thing, but he’d nearly forgotten how to breathe when she presented him with an illustration of a couple in a very flexible position. He’d sent the book away in a cloud of magic so quickly that he wasn’t entirely sure where he’d sent it to.

She’d frowned at him for the rest of the day for that.

The only other big change had been her dresses. Each morning, Belle had woken up underneath a new blanket, and each morning he turned the blanket into a new dress for her. This morning’s had been golden, and he’d transformed it into a big, off the shoulder gown that was more suited to a ballroom than quietly reading in the library. But she didn’t know that, and he couldn’t fight the urge to spoil her.

She looked so beautiful in that dress. Gold was the perfect colour for her, and it matched the little golden necklace that gave her her legs. Rumplestiltskin found himself staring at her from his place behind his workbench. Her warm brown curls tumbled over her bare shoulders, and she worried at her lower lip as she read her book; pointing at each word as she tried to figure out what it said.

He sighed and she looked up.

A red blush spread up her cheeks, and Rumple quickly went back to the very interesting book he’d been pretending to read. She distracted him too easily. He’d completely lost sight of why he’d really brought her there, especially since giving her those legs. She was there to help him find the Black Fairy’s wand, not to distract him and-- She was trying to stand up.

“No, no, no--” Dropping his book, Rumple hurried to her side and she looped her arm around his shoulder. “Where are you going now?”

He hadn’t considered that she’d need to learn how to walk, or that her legs would be so weak from never being used. It reminded him too much of his son. In the past two days he’d caught himself daydreaming more about teaching his boy to walk than he had in two centuries. He’d been such a determined little child, that once Bae had got the hang of walking, it wasn’t long before he was running.

But Belle wasn’t a child. She was a woman. A woman with beautiful blue eyes, an enchanting smile, and soft curves he couldn’t stop thinking about. She pressed those curves into his side as they walked, and he helped her balance on the edge of the bath.

Belle daintily fixed the creases in her skirts as he straightened up, and they both pretended she wasn’t still blushing. She bent forward to sort through her collection of oddities and treasures he’d brought for her, and lifted up her little music box. He was about to return to his work, but she took his hand and pressed the box against his stomach, waiting for him to take it.

“It’s yours,” he said simply, pushing it back at her. She shook her head and opened the lid. The pretty tune that he’d grown so familiar with in her presence started to play, but it only managed the first few notes before Rumple shut it again.

She distracted him too much.

“I don’t have time to work out what you’re trying to say, dearie,” he sniped, but it didn’t deter her. With a determined little frown wrinkling her pretty face, she opened the lid again and pointed at the dancing couple as they span.

“No,” he said flatly. She pointed again and nodded. “ _No_.” It was impossible for her scowl to look anything other than adorable, but something about her being displeased with him had Rumple second guessing himself. “I’ve told you. I don’t--” She took his hand and pulled him closer. “--dance.”

Belle stared up at him with those big blue eyes of hers, and he stared down at her hand wrapped around his; her silky smooth, pale skin holding tightly onto his scaled, clawed hand. She’d never shied away from touching him. Something about that thought had him relaxing and nodding before he even realised what he was agreeing to. Her whole face lit up, so bright and happy that he knew it was too late to decline again.

Taking the box from her, Rumple sent it away in a poof of magic, and her smile fell.

“Not in here,” he said, and wrapping his arms around her back, he engulfed them in the same magical cloud as the box.

She held him tight and buried her face against his chest, until the cloud cleared and she saw they were in an entirely new room.

Her mouth fell open and she pulled away from him just enough to take in the red walls and tapestries of the great hall. Then her eyes settled on her music box, sitting silently on the long table. She let go of him and tried to reach for it, but her knees buckled and she nearly collapsed. It was only his hands hooked under her arms that stopped her from falling.

Rumple knew they’d have to be creative if this was going to work, and she was obviously determined enough to make it work. Even if she didn’t know the steps. She watched him curiously as he pulled her back to him. Their chests pressed together, which would have been ridiculously close for what they were about to do, but it was necessary. Really.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, holding her up, and she recognised the pose he was trying to encourage. She placed her hand delicately on his bicep, and took his free hand in her other. He nudged her bare feet with the tips of his boots, and her happy smile was briefly marred by a confused frown. He waited patiently for her to work out what he meant, giving her a reassuring nod. It didn’t take her long. Rumple soon felt the light press of the tips of her toes as she stepped up onto his feet.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked lowly, and she knew that word. That one word had her eagerly nodding and smiling so wide he couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. As if he’d had any doubt that this was what she wanted.

A pinch of magic had the music box opening by itself, and the room filled with its song. _Their_ song, a small voice in the back of his head corrected.

Pushing it back, very far back, Rumplestiltskin led them into the first steps of the dance. Belle’s hand tightened on his arm, but she didn’t look worried. One look at her bright eyes was enough to tell him that, instead of being nervous or uncomfortable, she was excited. Her happiness was infectious, filling him with a soft warmth as he guided her in small circles around the room.

It didn’t take much for her brilliant smile to boost his confidence in his dancing skills. He wished he could do more with her, and hold her even closer all at the same time, but Belle seemed content with the basic steps. She was content to just be with him. They looked only at one another, and if the candles in their sconces and the fire in the hearth suddenly burned brighter, then they pretended not to notice. The castle could have its fun for now.

He lost count of how many turns they took across the room, as their music played on a loop. Belle’s smile never left her face, and her eyes never left his. How she could look at him without flinching, or showing any sign of unease, he didn’t know. It had him smiling back at her and filled him with the sudden urge to introduce something new to their dance.

Tightening his arm around her waist, Rumple dipped her. Her lips parted in a quiet gasp and her hands gripped onto him. For just a second he thought maybe he’d made a mistake, but then a warm blush coloured her cheeks and joined her happy smile. He straightened them up, letting go of her hand to wrap both of his arms around her, and noticed her blush trail down her neck. He caught himself before his eyes could drop any lower.

“Belle.” All other words left his head when she met his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. They'd stopped dancing, but their song still played on softly in the background, and he tried desperately to think of something to say.

“Perhaps we should--” She kissed him. Belle wound her arms around his neck, pressing the length of her body against his, and _kissed_ him. Her lips were so warm and soft, and they parted for him in a silent moan when he leaned in to her. He couldn’t help it. It felt like he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, and now he was drinking from a fresh spring. The cool taste of her lips and the magic of their kiss started to wash over them, giving him little time to realise what was happening. It was only when Rumple felt a twinge in his leg, as he held them both up, that he pulled away.

A rush of magic flooded back into him. It almost knocked him off balance, and he would have dropped Belle had they not been holding one another so tightly. He could see the shock on her face. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted in quiet wonder. He knew what had happened. He knew what she’d seen, briefly, after his moment of poor judgement.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not for him. True Love’s kiss happened to other people. People like Snow White and that ridiculously named prince of hers.

Belle brought her hand down and stroked the restored scales on his cheek. She pressed her lips together in thought, and Rumple felt the urge to kiss her again; which only made him feel worse. He had to get her out of his arms, or send her away. She had to go as far away from him as possible.

“Oh my.”

The moment was ruined with those two little words. The double doors to the great hall hit the wall, and Belle jumped in his arms.

“Regina,” he said slowly. “I don’t remember extending an invitation to you.” His first instinct was to let go of Belle, but Regina would love that. She’d love the idea that she’d caught him red-handed, doing something he didn’t want her to see. Which would be true, but she didn’t need proof of that.

He kept holding on to Belle, and she held onto him just as tight, as they both looked at the queen sauntering her way in. He pulled his magic away from the music box and the lid snapped shut, surrounding them in silence.

Regina smirked. “So this is why you wanted that dusty old thing.”

Rumple ignored her taunt. He loosened his grip on Belle and looped her arm through his. She slipped off his feet and leaned on him heavily as he guided her to his chair at the head of the long table. All the way he was aware of Regina’s eyes firmly fixed on them. She’d no doubt notice that Belle needed help walking, and they both watched her as she fixed her skirts and clasped her hands daintily in her lap.

“Is there something you want, dearie?”

“I just want a moment to enjoy this,” Regina answered, laughing. “It’s not every day you make the girls go weak at the knees, Rumple.”

If he was going to convince Regina that he didn’t care about her finding him and Belle embracing one another, then he needed to play up his usual impish act. He needed to throw the queen off balance, and a quick, high-pitched giggle did just that. Her smile wavered, and he could see Belle looking between them from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t going to have fun trying to explain this to her.

“I didn’t know you had a sense of humour,” he commented with a gleeful wave of his hand.

“It seems we don’t know one another as well as we thought,” Regina returned, pointedly looking at Belle. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Why would I do that?” Feigning confusion, Rumple looked between the two women, as if he couldn’t fathom ever introducing one to the other. Belle didn’t need to mix with the likes of Regina, and he intended to make it very clear that her sudden appearance was not welcome.

“I’m rather busy, dearie.” He snapped his fingers and a tea set appeared before Belle. “You’ll have to make it quick.”

Her lips twisted in displeasure, and he watched with clear amusement as she straightened up and pushed her shoulders back. She always had been easy to read. “That potion you gave me for Snow,” she began, pulling the half-empty vial from a hidden pocket in her long skirts. “It didn’t work.”

Rumple gasped. “ _Really_?”

“You knew it wouldn’t, didn’t you?” Regina pointed an accusing finger at him and stepped forward.

“I knew nothing of the sort,” Rumple dismissed. “Did you do what I told you to?” He started to pour tea for two with Belle watching him closely. “Two little drops in her drink?”

“Of course I did!”

“Then maybe it was the wrong drink,” he mused, picking up his cup. Belle quickly snatched up the second, her little chipped cup, and clasped it firmly in both hands. She didn’t seem to mind the heat that seeped into her hands. If anything, Rumple thought she looked comforted by it. She brought the cup up to her lips, to blow the steam away, and he realised too late that he was smiling at her.

“Don’t play coy with me, you little imp,” Regina snapped, to his relief. When she let her anger guide her, she never noticed what was right in front of her. “Showing off in front of your… that _girl_. You wanted this to fail.”

“Did I?” He sipped his tea. “Would I have given you that potion if I wanted you to fail?”

Regina’s shoulders sagged and her hands fell back to her side. He watched as the potion sloshed around inside the vial, and winced. She really ought to be careful with his magic. It was powerful stuff.

“Then why didn’t it work?” she demanded.

“Magic is a temperamental thing,” he said shortly, fluttering his fingers in the air. “There are any number of reasons why it might not have worked. Or maybe she wasn’t thirsty.”

Regina pressed her lips together, barely holding back her temper bubbling just beneath the surface, and he smiled.

“Did you see her drink it?” he tested. She looked down at Belle, avoiding his eyes, and scowled at her as though it was her fault. Rumple grinned. “Oh dear, dearie.”

There was only so much taunting the queen could take. Especially when she knew she wouldn't get any sympathy or any further help from Rumplestiltskin. The plan to poison Snow's love, to have her push away those she loved most, had failed. Time to move on to the next plan, until she gave in and decided she had no option but to enact his curse.

Regina stepped up to him, and he lowered his cup as she smiled. She seemed to think she'd won the battle between them, even now.

"I’ll just have to find another way to make her pay," Regina said, as though the idea was her own.

“Yes,” he said with a noncommittal nod, and took another sip of his tea. “And you know what to do when you’re finished wasting my time.”

Her smile flickered between dark amusement and uncertainty, before settling on a false indifference, that even Regina herself must have known wouldn’t fool him. She dusted off the front of her dress and looked around, as if suddenly bored.

“Oh, there’s plenty more things I can try before asking for your help again.” She glanced down at Belle. “Enjoy my music box.”

“It’s not yours anymore. We had a deal,” he reminded, but Regina had already turned around and started to walk away. She cast him a final grin over her shoulder and left.

Rumplestiltskin looked down at Belle. Their eyes met, and for a moment the tension that Regina had brought with her ebbed away. But as he put his cup down, it knocked against something small and solid. An empty glass vial rolled to the edge of the table, and he caught it quickly before it fell.

His heart sank.

He looked between their cups of tea - his half-drank and hers chipped and empty - and he barely registered Belle’s wide-eyed concern as he hurled the glass vial at the fireplace.


	7. Clouds

Things had changed. Belle didn't think it was their dance, or their kiss, but something had happened to Rumple to make him distance himself from her.

Three days after they'd shared True Love's kiss, and that queen had left her potion by her cup, Rumple had told her that they were going back to the beach. Her heart pounded as she took off her necklace and he took them there in his magical cloud. He was going to get rid of her. She just knew it. He'd regretted their kiss, and now he wanted to be rid of her.

Maybe he preferred that other woman, the human, but Belle didn't think that was it. His smiles for the woman had been nothing like the smiles he'd shared with her. She just knew that Rumple was unhappy with her and he was angry at something the other woman had done.

Without his usual care, he set her down on a rock and took the necklace from her. Belle reached for it, but he slipped it into a pocket in his jacket and turned his back on her. He was talking, but when she couldn't see his face and he made no effort to sign his meaning to her, Belle had no idea what he was trying to tell her. The pounding of her heart slowly turned to a heaviness in her chest that settled low in her stomach. It was a horrible, sickly feeling; the feeling that she'd found her True Love and now he was going to get rid of her.

Waves lapped up onto the shore, licking at the rock she sat on and the tip of her ripped fin. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to swim well, even if a lot of the damage had healed. She’d still be too weak to swim against the sea’s strong currents, and it would be a miracle if she made it down to her home. Maybe that’s what he wanted. He had to know she wasn’t strong enough yet.

Warm tears pricked her eyes.

“I should have known,” Rumple said as he turned to her. He was rambling to himself, his hand gestures more animated than usual. They were so erratic that Belle had no hope of trying to decipher what he was saying. “Stupid. Hopeful. Idiotic.” He wrung his hands together. “To think that--”

Belle bit her lip and lifted her hand to get his attention.

“ _What_?” he barked, rounding on her fast. She pulled her hand to her chest, recoiling from his anger, and he must have seen the fear in her face. His blazing eyes softened and he straightened up.

“What?” he said again, quieter and colder. It chilled the heavy sickness in her belly.

She watched him closely, and he stared back at her. He didn’t appear to be able to stay still. His fingers kept moving, and he looked torn between growling at her or storming off. He’d never looked at her like that before, and Belle was confident it was only a mask.

She signed something to him; something she’d signed a dozen times before when she told him how much she loved the gifts he’d bought for her. Only this time, instead of pointing at her latest treasure, she pointed at him. Rumple frowned and shook his head. It made her even more insistent to get her message across. He couldn’t send her away without giving her a chance to voice what she wanted.

She pointed to herself, drummed her hand over her heart, and pointed at him.

“Stop that,” he said, and for once she was glad she couldn’t understand him. If he was telling her to go, she didn’t want to hear it. She repeated the gesture again, and again, until his frown had deepened and he stepped towards her. “Enough!”

Belle matched his frown now, her worry churning into frustration at his stubbornness. Couldn’t he tell how much she loved him? Why was he questioning her now? True Love’s kiss couldn’t be faked. She’d read about it in one of _his_ books.

They were both scowling at one another now, and she was vaguely aware of how silly they must have looked. Her eyes were full of unspilled tears, and while she was already smaller than him, having to sit down made her feel even smaller. For a moment, she hated him for giving her that stupid necklace and then taking it away from her.

She tried to sign it again - _I love you_ \- and jabbed her finger into his chest.

Rumple grabbed her wrists. It wasn't a tight grip, it didn't hurt, but it was firm enough that Belle couldn't pull her hands free. She still tried. All her hurt and frustration spilled out of her, and she struggled against him, using all of her strength to free herself and make a grab for her necklace. When that didn't work, she drew her tail up to her chest and pushed it into his stomach. She may not have been stronger than him, but she had the element of surprise. He hadn't expected her to use her tail, and he released her immediately as he stumbled backwards on the rocks.

Belle pulled herself off the rock he’d placed her on and dipped her tail into the water. She was sitting on the ground now, and even shorter than him, but it didn’t make her any more scared of him. She didn’t fear him. She was too upset for that. He looked at her, disbelieving, and then corrected himself. With an indignant growl, he straightened the front of his waistcoat and stood at his full height. It reminded her too much of the pose he’d struck in front of the other woman and Belle had to look away.

Clutching the little necklace tight in her hands, she looked out to sea. The water was dark, the clouds were grey, and nothing about it was welcoming. At some point during her stay with Rumple, the water had stopped feeling like home, but now he wanted her to go back. She would get a warm enough welcome from her father, and from Ariel, but Rumple wouldn’t be there. She’d still be made to marry Gaston, and she’d never see Rumple again.

Belle wiped at her eyes roughly, angry that her tears wouldn’t stop.

“You should go.” She ignored him. “You can’t stay here anymore, dearie.”

She spent just a few more moments with her tail in the cool waters and carefully, so he wouldn’t see what she was doing, she put the necklace back on. The warm buzz that had washed over her the first time she’d worn the necklace, when Rumple had put it on her, now felt like needle pricks all over her scales. The water around her glowed bright, and she heard him moving quickly on the rocks behind her, but he was too late to stop her. Her legs were back, and Belle pushed herself up out of the water.

“How did you--?” He grabbed her elbow as she stumbled on the loose rocks. She was getting better at walking, but the beach was wet and the rocks were smooth, and she somehow ended up tangled in his arms.

Rumple stared down at her, stunned, and she screwed up her nose at him. It didn’t matter that he was warm, and she was naked on a cold beach, or that she could barely walk more than a few paces. She did not want him to hold her. She didn’t want him to pretend he cared about her anymore.

Wrenching herself away from him, Belle stood to her full, small height and shakily walked around him. She had no destination in mind, she didn’t know the land well at all beyond Rumple’s castle, but she needed to get away from him and the shore.

A drop of water fell on her face, and she stopped. Another landed on her arm, and her bare chest, and Belle looked up just as the grey clouds burst and water started to fall from the sky. Her skin pebbled as the chill of the rain seeped into her body. She’d never been out in rain before. She’d seen the effects of it from under the sea, but on land it was a lot less fun than she’d imagined.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Belle took another determined step forward, and another. She didn’t stop until she felt something heavy settle over her shoulders. His high, leather collar brushed her soaked hair as she turned to see Rumple wrapping his long jacket around her. A stubborn part of her wanted to shrug it off, but then she saw how miserable he looked; with his usually curly hair sitting flat against his face and his large sleeves darkened by the rain and hanging heavily from his arms.

They were both being ridiculous.

She turned to face him slowly, and he held her arm to stop her from slipping again.

“Regina didn’t need to slip that potion into my tea,” he said quietly. Belle could barely hear him over the roar of the rain hitting the rocks and the sea. He had to have known she wouldn’t be able to understand him, even if she could hear, but this was obviously something important to him, and Belle reached out to squeeze his hand.

“Turning love bitter,” Rumple continued, “Is one thing I can do without magic.”

He tried to smile at her. It was such a small, uncertain thing, that Belle couldn’t stay mad at him anymore. They were both shaking, and she wasn't sure if that was from the cold or their nerves, but she wished they could go somewhere warmer. He pulled her against him, winding his arm around her lower back underneath his jacket, and she gave him a watery smile. He was trying.

Belle slipped her arms into the sleeves of his jacket and returned his embrace. Neither of them had any warmth left, but it was nice to be able to hold him again.

“Belle,” he whispered, reaching up and brushing his fingers under her chin. Rumple was hesitating, and she held her breath as she waited for him to lean just a little bit closer; just a fraction. She waited so long that she started to worry he was going to pull away, but then he surged forward and his lips crashed into hers.

It was a far different kiss to their first. That one had been sweet and naive. This one was desperate and demanding. Belle tangled her hands in his hair, and a warm, excited thrill flooded through her as he pressed his hands into her back. The cold rain was forgotten, just for a moment, as she let herself melt against him. It was almost as if the rain had suddenly stopped, but she quickly realised it hadn't. It had just stopped raining on them. The water beat against distant glass instead of their skin, and a welcoming heat hugged the back of Belle's legs.

She broke their kiss, and Rumple's lips followed after hers, but she turned her head away to see where they were and his mouth met her cheek. The great hall was mostly dark with the storm raging outside, but the fireplace was lit and filled the space close to them in a warm, orange glow.

Rumple released her suddenly and she felt the warm fire mix with the hot tingle of magic. It spread down her naked body, underneath his coat, and dressed her in a long, blue gown. The fabric shimmered and twinkled as it moved in the firelight, and rippled like flowing water as he guided her into a high armchair. More magic dried them off and gave him a heavy woollen blanket to drape over her shoulders. She wasn't cold anymore, she didn't really need it, but she accepted his gifts with a smile and gave him his jacket back.

He hesitated before taking it, moving his fingers in that way Belle had come to realise meant he was unsure. Rumple seemed to be contemplating something, something that made him nervous, and she reached out to grab one of his fluttering hands. His entire body went rigid as she pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed his knuckles. That seemed to be enough to give him the confidence he needed to make a decision. He took his hand back and held up a single finger, before he disappeared in his magical smoke.

Belle dropped her hand and started playing with the little pearl around her neck. She didn’t know if she’d sent him away, if he intended to stay away, or if whatever he’d decided meant he had to fetch her something. She looked down at the crackling fire and sighed.

None of the books she’d read said anything about True Love being so complicated. It had made it sound like a wonderful, bright light that would bring nothing but happiness and banish all darkness. She’d never anticipated the care and worry that came with loving someone so much. She worried about him. She wasn’t sure at what point during her stay she’d come to care about Rumple, but she did, and he’d looked so worried before he left her that she hated the idea of him being alone. Even for just the short moment he was away from her.

The sky rumbled outside, and the drum of distant thunder was interrupted by Rumple’s voice to the side of her.

“Belle.” Another seat was suddenly opposite hers, and she looked up as he warily sat in it. He sat on the edge, not reclining back or getting comfortable, and clutched a small pile of books in his hand. She watched him curiously, and something about her expression must have reached him, because his lips quirked up into a small, amused smile.

He set the books down into his lap, and Belle noted the slip of old parchment on top. It was blank, but she could see the dark markings of something drawn on the other side. He lifted it, looking at the illustration. It brought a soft smile to his face, but it was tainted with a sadness that Belle hadn’t seen in him before and that she never wanted to see again.

“Here,” Rumple said after a moment, and even if she didn’t understand the word, she heard his voice crack. He held the paper out to her and she took it with the care it deserved. He was sharing something important with her. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the image or the paper it was drawn upon. The image itself was of a human boy - a boy with skin and eyes like the humans drawn in Rumple’s books - but he was very young. She’d never seen a young human before. Her fingertips hovered over the curve of his hood, resting over a mop of dark hair, and she heard Rumple flicking through one of the heavier books he’d brought with him.

After a second or two of searching for something, he held the book up and pointed to a single word with a clawed finger. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward to read the tiny print.

_Son._

Belle looked back down to the boy in the drawing, then back up to Rumple as he pointed at himself. She pointed at him questioningly, and mimed rocking a baby in her arms. That threw him. His eyes widened, drawn down to the invisible baby against her chest, and then he seemed to realise what she meant. He nodded.

_It was his son._

She looked around the room and shrugged. _Where is he?_

Rumple flipped through the book again, looking for another word. It took him a little less time than searching for the first, and he held it out for her to see the word he’d chosen.

 _Lost_.

Belle blinked back the start of tears as she watched him. His eyes flicked between her and the drawing of his lost boy, and she realised how much courage he must have had to share that with her. He was a childless father, and all alone in that big castle. She’d never met the boy, and if just the idea of Rumple’s son being lost made her sad, she couldn’t imagine how he must have felt.

She carefully took the books and placed them and the picture on the floor beside her chair, away from the fire. Rumple watched her closely, and he leaned back as she stood up to approach him. She couldn’t tell him not to worry, or ask him any of the questions piling up in her head, but she could comfort him. He didn’t immediately seem to realise that that’s what she was doing. With a shuffle of her skirts, Belle sat down in his lap and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She pulled him into her chest, and he went willingly, resting his cheek against her breast.

It was hard to say how long they stayed like that. Neither of them tried to speak or pull away, not even when she felt a wetness against her skin. She just silently brushed her fingers through Rumple’s hair, and rested her head on top of his.


	8. Crocodile

They hadn't spoken about Bae since the night he'd told her about him. Rumple could tell she had questions, the way she looked at him had changed, but she thankfully kept them to herself.

She seemed more determined than ever to spend time with him, another thing that had changed. She hadn't stayed in the library for the last few days. She'd read whenever he was in there, or read in the great hall as he spun. Everything seemed to fascinate her, and on more than one occasion Rumplestiltskin had caught himself smiling as he watched her read.

The only time she went back to her bath in the library was at night, when she'd slip off her necklace and curl up under the water. He didn't really need to sleep, but the temptation to show her his bed was growing stronger each day. It had to be comfier than the tub. But then, she was a mermaid, and she seemed to favour her bath over the little bed he’d placed in the library for her. She must have missed being in the water, even if she had refused to go back into the sea when he’d been foolish enough to try and send her away.

It gave him a new idea. A far better idea than his last one.

A week after that particularly bad idea to push her away, Rumplestiltskin crouched down by Belle’s bath as she woke up. She blinked the water out of her eyes as she surfaced, and greeted him with a warm, sleepy smile. He smiled back, like the besotted fool he was, and stilled her hand as she reached out for her necklace. It made her frown, but his reassuring nod seemed to calm whatever worries she might have had. She grabbed the little necklace, and he reached into the water to lift her out.

Rumple had no idea how to explain his plan to her. He wasn’t sure that she could understand any spoken words, and it would take too long to try and sign it, write it, or find the words in a book. Instead, he whisked her away from the library in a wave of magic, and appeared outside in the fresh morning air. The cold didn’t seem to bother her when she had her tail, and it never bothered him, but Rumple had at least waited until the sun was up before waking Belle to take her outside.

Sliding her arms around his neck, she looked around curiously as he carried her through the castle gardens. The snows were only just beginning to clear so high up in the mountains, but the garden was magic, and flowers were already blooming all around them in a whole rainbow of colours. Belle didn’t need to know that every flower - from the colourful tulips, tall foxgloves and crimson poppies, to the wild roses growing up the castle walls - had only started to grow the day he’d conceived his plan.

Her eyes caught on every little flower, and he smiled indulgently as she pointed at some of them. Then her hand pushed against his chest, telling him to stop, and she pointed to a rose bush. He carried her closer, and Belle eagerly reached down to pluck one of the blooming flowers.

“Wait--” He was too late. Belle gasped, pulling her hand away with the rose, and he saw the little drop of red on the tip of her finger. “They have thorns,” Rumple finished uselessly.

Carrying her to a stone bench, only a few short steps away, he sat down with her in his lap. She pouted sadly as she looked at her pricked finger, and he was hit with the sudden desire to kiss the sullen look from her face. He didn’t. He didn’t think she’d appreciate it after being betrayed by the rose bush. Instead, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertip. He could feel her eyes on him, but he kept his own downcast as he let his magic heal the little cut. It was only a small pinch of magic. His lips weren’t on her long enough for the mermaid’s magic to reject his.

“There,” he said quietly. “All better.” Releasing her hand, he looked at her and the little pink blush in her cheeks. He smiled and lifted the rose carefully, letting her watch as a ripple of magic washed over the stem and smoothed away the thorns.

“Here,” Rumple said, and held up the rose for her to breathe in its scent. “If you’ll still have it.”

Belle took it happily, carefully, and raised it to her nose. Satisfied that she was well, Rumplestiltskin lifted her back up, her arm wrapped back around his shoulder, and he carried her the rest of the way out of the garden.

The Dark Castle had a lot of land with it, far beyond the main walls of the castle and the lush gardens. A small gate, covered in green vines, led out to a cluster of small hills, and beyond that was the great lake. He felt Belle’s little intake of breath when she saw the clear waters. Snow from the mountains filtered down into the lake, leaving the water an almost clear, cool blue. He lowered her carefully into the grass at the lake’s edge, and Belle set her necklace and rose aside in favour of the large body of water.

It was a relief that she looked so happy to see the open water. He’d half worried she’d think he was trying to send her away again, but Belle dipped the end of her tail into the water and smiled up at him. She hadn’t swam in the sea for more than a month. Rumple had known that when he’d taken her back to the beach, and it had been cruel of him to expect her to just swim off. Her fin was still torn, albeit not as badly as a month ago, and she’d be too weak to swim far out from the shore.

Belle shuffled further into the water, across the tiny stones that covered the shallow edge of the lake, until her tail was submerged entirely. She looked back to him then, and beckoned for him to follow her.

“Oh, no,” he declined, waving his hand in front of his face with a grin. “This isn’t for me.”

She frowned and crooked her finger at him. Rumple smirked. She was a determined little thing.

“I can think of other things I’d rather do, dearie.” He shooed his hands at her.

Belle rolled her eyes at him, and he could almost believe she’d understood his teasing, but she didn’t give up. She turned onto her stomach and pulled herself back to where he’d placed her. By the time he realised what she was about to do, it was too late for him to step back. She grabbed his boot and tugged on it sharply. If he hadn’t been the Dark One, the quick tug would have knocked him off balanced. That at least didn’t happen, but it was enough for her to yank his foot forward.

“No,” he insisted, and she pulled again. Much like when she kept asking him to dance, Rumplestiltskin could already feel his resolve slipping. He didn’t believe his own insistence any more than she did, and all it took was one more pull from Belle for him to growl at himself and give in.

“Fine,” he snapped with false venom. “Persistent thing.”

Relieving himself of his heavy jacket and waistcoat, Rumple tried to ignore the happy smile that lit up her face. He pressed his lips into a thin line, determined not to let himself smile back.

With a wave of his hand he magically removed his high boots and their troublesome laces, and then paused. He could hardly swim in his silk shirt and leather trousers, but he wasn’t sure just how much he wanted to strip off. He looked down at Belle, and she was watching him with slightly parted lips. She must have been thinking about the same thing, but she didn’t look uncomfortable or disgusted. She looked… fascinated, as if she was anticipating the moment he’d start to pull off his shirt.

He tried not to look at her again as he finally lifted it over his head. The trousers could stay on.

It was ridiculous how easily he gave in to whatever she wanted. He should have told her _no_ , and kept his feet firmly planted in the grass. He shouldn’t have been wading slowly through the shallow, lapping lake water until he was stood beside her. She shuffled a little deeper into the water, smiling at him contentedly, and like the fool he definitely was he crouched down beside her.

“You owe me for this,” he said bitterly. Even his tone didn’t seem to deter her. She just gave him a knowing look, as though she knew he was giving her an empty threat and she wasn’t in the least bit concerned.

“You won’t be smiling when I--” She put her finger over his lips and grinned wider. Rumplestiltskin didn’t know if it was silencing him that delighted her, or if it was the absurdity of silencing the Dark One that amused her, but maybe the mischievous thing was simply smiling at his frown.

She was too playful for her own good, but whatever mischief Belle dished out, Rumple could easily match and beat it. He pulled back and snapped at her finger. She pulled the offending digit back just enough to avoid his teeth, and he grinned a toothy grin as her lips parted into a silent gasp. She tried to do it again, but he leaned so far back to avoid her that he promptly fell onto his behind and into the shallow water.

Belle laughed quietly, her shoulders shaking, and he found himself smiling back at her.

_Damn it._

“Shouldn’t you be swimming?” he snapped, trying to quelch the warmth dancing in his chest. This was the complete opposite of what he’d planned when he took her out to the lake. Belle was supposed to swim, regain her strength, and then _choose_ to leave him and go back home. He’d already told her too much. He’d never planned to tell her about his son, and if he ever wanted to see Bae again, he needed Regina to cast that curse. He didn’t want his mother’s wand anymore. It wasn’t fair for Belle to get caught up in any of this. He wouldn’t change his plans just to keep her with him. She should be home, under the sea, with her family.

But instead she was leaning closer to him. Her hand hovered over his lips, and then trailed down his jaw. She barely touched him, but he could feel the whisper of her fingertips ghosting over his skin. Her hand fell lower, until she pressed her palm flat against his bare chest. He wondered if she was thanking him for something, but the touch was too intimate and her eyes were focused too intently on his skin.

She felt her way over the greyish-gold scales on his chest, drawing unrecognisable patterns down over his stomach, and he caught her wrist before she could explore any lower. Their eyes met, and for the first time he caught a look of something more than curiosity in hers. If he didn’t know any better, he’d call it longing.

Releasing her hand, Rumple’s hands flitted aimlessly by his sides, looking for something to do that could distract him from the growing tension between them. Her gaze dropped to his hands and he brought them in front of his chest.

“Why are you still here?” he said weakly. “Go and swim.”

Belle stared at him for a moment, and then pushed herself deeper into the water. He watched her go, her head hung low, and he tried not to think too much about the rejected little pout she wore as she turned away from him.

Soon enough she was submerged to her chest in the lake, but he could still see her body through the clear waters. He wished he couldn’t. The sun hitting the lake changed the look of her tail entirely. It was something he’d missed in her long weeks living inside the castle. Outside, in open water and under bright skies, her scales shined and shimmered in all shades of blue, like sunlight beaming through coloured glass. She was a creature meant to be outdoors, free and wild. It sent a pang through his chest. Rumple knew she couldn’t stay with him indefinitely. A part of him had hoped, but now he knew it without a doubt. Belle didn’t belong shut up in his castle.

She deserved to be free.

Curiosity getting the better of him, and trying not to think about Belle rubbing off on him, Rumple moved forward. She ducked down into the water, leaving only her eyes above the surface, and watched him carefully. He crawled just close enough to be in deeper waters, took a deep breath, and dunked his head under.

It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to their new surroundings, but Belle soon swam into focus. She ducked her own head underneath and stared back at him, and he almost had to resurface to take another breath. Her eyes were like the scales of her tail. The blue shifted and shined, from bright blue to almost clear hues. She swam closer to him and held out her hand. For the first time since he’d found her, the voice of the darkness reminded him that mermaids were like fairies. They were charming and beautiful and couldn’t be trusted. He knew the stories of merfolk and sirens and water spirits dragging sailors down into the depths.

But then Belle smiled at him, and he forgot it all and reached out to take her hand.

Under the water it was easier for her to pull him into her. She pulled him close, their chests bumping together, and greeted him with an open-mouthed kiss; one that he eagerly returned. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he felt a stream of magic pass from her lips to his. _Her_ magic, the darkness corrected him. He hadn’t knowingly done anything, and that was confirmed when she pulled back and he realised how long he’d been under the surface. The need for air was suddenly gone.

Belle smiled at him and, still holding his hand, tugged him after her deeper into the lake. He let her pull him along so far, before her fingers slipped from his and she swam on ahead.

She twirled, darted around, and swam in circles; completely in her element. It was hard to match the woman he'd watched stumbling across the library as she learnt to walk, with the woman who effortlessly floated through the lake before him. She was soft and graceful. Her tail, even still torn as it was, propelled her through the water and shimmered with brilliant blues. He couldn't take his eyes off her. It fuelled the growing desire he had to keep her with him forever.

He wasn’t a good man. The darkness agreed with that. If Belle was happy staying with him, in his library or in the lake, then he’d keep her with him. Forever.

Rumple swam over to her, and she twirled around to face him. Her hair swirled around her head, like dark ink dropped into still water, and her bright eyes shined through it all. He’d missed all of this, keeping her in that bath in his castle. She wasn’t just beautiful and sweet, she was ethereal with a magic all of her own.

Belle reached out to take his hand and he kicked his feet to push himself closer to her. He felt the pleasant tingle of her magic, as she turned his hand over and watched the sunlight shimmering off his skin. His scales looked almost golden, but they weren’t nearly as pretty as the glow of her pale skin or the shifting blues glittering in her tail. She was wonderful.

The voice of doubt and his darkness be damned. He wasn’t a sailor being lured to his doom, and he doubted Belle could ever hurt anyone. She curled her tail around the back of his legs and danced around him, swirling him around in the icy water. It was almost like their dance in the great hall, but this time she was the lead and he was the one in need of her help to move, and all he could hear was their movement in the water and his heartbeat in his ears.

She stopped moving, but the drifting of the water continued to gently turn them together. Belle smiled shyly and wound her arms around his shoulders, holding him to her so the water couldn’t draw them apart, and he put his hands on her waist.

That was it. Rumple definitely wasn’t a good man, but she’d made her choice and he’d made his. Whatever plans he’d set into motion with Regina could be changed. He wouldn’t return Belle to the sea and he wouldn’t leave her behind. He would find a way to take her with him.


	9. Library

Every morning, since their day at the lake, Rumple came to her and asked if she wanted to go outside.

She could have walked out with him, and strolled through the flowers by his side, but neither of them suggested that. Instead, every time he came to her, Belle forewent her necklace and let him carry her to the water. She’d wrap her arms around his shoulders, press the occasional kiss to his cheek, and enjoy the bright colours of the garden. He would hold her back just as tightly, but his hands never strayed from where they held her up. More than once, Belle had hoped for him to slip his hand a little higher, or for him to return her kisses.

A week into this new routine, or thereabouts, Belle had made up her mind.

She awoke early, put on her necklace for the first time in over a week, and set about getting ready for his daily visit. She fixed her hair as best as she could when it was still wet, with a brush he’d gifted to her, and used her shells to pin it back from her face.

She chose one of the many dresses he’d created with magic, the flowing blue one from the night he’d told her about his son, and tried to put it on without the aid of magic. It was easier to do than the other dresses would have been. She pulled on the bodice, laced it up at the back as best as she could, and straightened the skirt. It didn’t hold the same shape without the underskirts, and she was aware that the outline of her legs was visible as she walked to her bed, but she’d read a book where the sultry heroine had forgone her underthings and the hero of the story had seemed to like that. She wanted to try it for herself, even if she did feel silly in the flat dress as she waited.

He didn’t keep her waiting for too long. Rumplestiltskin was right on time as he climbed the stairs to the library. He’d taken to wearing less in the last week, too. He didn’t often wear his heavy coat in the castle anymore, or his scarves, and sometimes he even left off his waistcoat. He looked lighter for it, and Belle quickly decided that she preferred him like that, without all the scaled armour.

Rumple’s eyes widened when he saw her already up, fully dressed - as far as he knew - and sitting on her little bed with a book in her hands.

“Oh...” He breathed out, bringing his hands up uncertainly and worrying his fingers together. “I… take it you don’t wish to go outside?” Belle didn’t understand, but she could guess that he was offering to take her to the lake, like he always did. She shook her head.

“Right.” Rumple nodded, looking around the room awkwardly. “Of course.”

This was it. This was her chance to show him that she wanted to spend more time with him than the brief minutes it took him to carry her to the lake. She wanted to be _with_ him. They were True Love, and he still seemed to be struggling to accept that.

Taking a deep breath, Belle set aside her book and stood up. She stumbled slightly, and he rushed forward to grab her elbows, but she didn’t really need his help anymore. She couldn’t walk fast, she certainly couldn’t run like he had, but she could move around unaided. He knew that. There was no need for him to keep coming to help her outside, and yet he did. It gave her the bravery she needed to reach out and wrap her arms around his middle.

He stiffened against her embrace, but as soon as he caught the smile on her face, Rumple relaxed in her arms and tentatively hugged her back.

“Belle,” he said quietly, and she nodded for him to go on. “I have to ask you something.” He nodded at the book she’d discarded, and she reluctantly released him so he could reach for it. He started to flick through the pages, but Belle took his hand and guided him to sit beside her on the bed. His hand was tense under hers, and his movements lacked their usual graceful flow as he sat. When she let go of his hand, he quickly went back to flipping through the book and not looking at her.

When he finally found the word he was looking for, Rumple rested it in her lap and pointed at it with a black-clawed finger.

_Family._

Belle looked between him and the word, trying to work out what he was trying to tell her. Was he calling her family, or asking about her family? Taking a guess, she took the book from him and scanned the next few pages for her answer.

 _Father_.

He was the only family she had, and it had been that way for years. Gaston didn’t count as family. They’d only met once and weren’t married yet. Hopefully they never would be. But all of that was too much to explain one word at a time. She just hoped ‘father’ was enough, and she watched Rumple closely as he stared at the word she was still pointing at.

Eventually, he gave her a stiff nod and took the book back. He searched the pages again, and again, then gave up on that book and grabbed another from the table beside the bed. His jaw clenched as he looked for his reply, and Belle bit her lip. She thought he was angry, but as she reached out to place her hand over his again, he gulped and glanced at her almost sheepishly. She smiled at him, trying to let him know it was all right if he couldn’t find the right words, and he smiled back.

“I...” he began to say, his voice suddenly hoarse. “I want you to stay. With me.” Belle wasn’t sure what he meant, but she recognised ‘me’ and his tone sounded like a confession. She lifted her hand from his, cupping his cheek, and Rumple tilted his head into her palm. The warmth of his cheek against her hand, which spread up her arm and tinted her own cheeks pink, gave her the final spark of bravery she needed to show him that she wanted him.

“Belle--” She cut him off with a kiss. It was only the slightest, softest brushing of lips, but it was enough to give her a thrill of excitement when he leaned into her.

Slipping her hand into his hair, Belle lifted herself from the narrow bed and straddled him. She had to hike up her skirt to keep it from pulling awkwardly against her legs, revealing a quick flash of her calves. Rumple’s hands brushed under the soft silk, and his gasp against her lips told her he’d found she had nothing underneath. The heat in her cheeks blossomed down her neck to the tops of her shoulders. She was sure she looked ridiculous, but when she broke their kiss Rumple looked more stunned than amused.

Maybe she’d misjudged the moment. A nervousness rippled in her stomach, giving a slight tremble to her hands. She’d hoped that he wanted more than a kiss, but maybe she was wrong. She worried at her lip, but her fears were soon pushed aside when she noticed Rumple’s eyes drop to her mouth. Then another bout of bravery struck her.

Rising up from his lap, Belle straightened out the crumpled gown and reached back to pull at the laces of her corset. She’d deliberately tried to leave the ties loose, but it was still a struggle to pull the laces free of the holes. She tugged and tugged, until she was sure she was only making it worse and pulling the corset tighter. Then she felt Rumple’s hands sliding along her arms; following them to where she gripped at the laces. She looked up with a muted gasp, and he took a step closer.

“Let me,” he said, taking the laces from her.

Belle watched his face as he slowly loosened her corset. Her breathing quickened, and she could feel the stiff material going slack, before the whole dress was loose enough for her to push it to the floor. It pooled around her feet, and she smiled when he took a sharp breath at the sight of her.

Leaning closer, her nose brushing against the side of his, Belle started to pluck open the buttons of his shirt. Her heart was already pumping so fast she could feel it under her skin, but then his hands brushed up her sides and pulled her close, and she thought it might just stop altogether.

A need for something more began to spread through her after she’d pushed his shirt to the ground. It fell with a soft whisper of silk, and Belle pressed herself against him. The feeling settled low in her belly, and an ache stirred between her legs. She’d read as much as she could find about human intercourse - which wasn’t much in his library - and she’d never read about _that_ particular sensation. It was frustrating not being able to express the sheer _need_ she felt for him.

Driven by her building desire, Belle gripped his arms and pulled him into another kiss. One that was far more heated than the last. She wanted to push everything she felt but couldn't say into that kiss. Through their lips, their noses squished against each others cheeks, and her hands gripping at his arms, Belle tried to press herself as close to him as possible.

Something hard in his leather trousers rubbed against her stomach, and she moaned into their kiss when she realised what it was. It fuelled the fire burning low in her body and made her grip him even tighter. Whatever it was filling her with warmth, Rumple seemed to share her frustration.

“Insatiable creature,” he murmured as they broke apart, and gave her a wicked smile that sent the heat from her cheeks flooding down to the place she longed for him to touch. She had no idea what he’d said, but the hunger in his eyes made her heart pound all the more and that curious itch for _something_ grew.

“What do you want?” he asked against her lips. “Show me what you want.”

Rumple pulled one of her hands down, and she frowned. It took her a moment to understand what he was offering her. She bit her lip, starting to feel a little silly and clueless, but he peppered kisses across her jaw and neck and the tension in her body started to ease.

“Show me,” he repeated, and Belle reacted instinctively. She dragged his hand over her stomach, making his quick kisses stop, and lowered his fingers to the spot between her legs.

Lifting his head, he looked at her with a new kind of intensity; one mingled with awe as well as lust. She tried to smile at him, but it disappeared behind a gasp as he pressed his fingers to where she craved his touch the most. An immediate tremor ran through her, right from where his fingertips started to massage little circles against the sensitive mound.

Belle bit her bottom lip to keep herself from panting too loudly, but he kissed her and the sudden mix of his hand and lips on her pulled a moan so loud from her that it made her cheeks flush. He laughed, a high, surprised sound, into their kiss, and Belle would have felt even more embarrassed, but he brought his other hand up to tenderly cup the side of her head and eased her nerves. A pleased shiver ran through her, joining the building tension his hand was creating, as his other hand tangled into her hair.

A new sort of need started to grow low inside her. It felt like the burgeoning pleasure was reaching for something, growing steadily closer the faster his fingers worked. The little bud grew and grew, until it bloomed and flooded her body with an intense thrill she didn’t ever know was possible.

She ended their kiss with a shuddering sigh, her legs shaking and threatening to collapse underneath her, and smiled at his stunned face. Hadn’t he expected that to happen?

Rumple seemed to be caught in her stare, and neither of them knew what to do. But Belle had some ideas. If he’d been able to pleasure her with just his hands, surely she could do the same for him. Her eyes dropped to the bulge in the front of his trousers, and before she could second guess herself she cupped him against her palm. His breathing quickened, and when he didn’t stop her, Belle started to unfasten the front of his trousers. He stood still, frozen to the spot and unable to look away from her, as she pushed the leather down over his hips and revealed what was hidden underneath.

When she looked back up to his face, the unusual greyish-gold tone of his skin had darkened.

She held her breath, biting her lip, and her silence made him shift his weight from one foot to another. She wasn’t sure what to do next, and how did she tell him he was a little bigger than she’d expected? The diagrams in her human biology book had been deceptive and not at all lifelike. It certainly hadn’t stood up like _that_.

Letting her curiosity guide her, Belle brushed her fingertips over the top of his hip bones and down the curve of his stomach. The skin was hot and raised, and he shivered against her as she took him into her hand. She wasn’t sure what the humans called that part of anatomy, and she had no idea how hard she was supposed to grip him, but he didn’t seem to mind her firm grasp. Her eyes snapped back up to his, and reading his expression as best as she could, she started to stroke her palm lightly up and down his erection.

He said something, as he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers, and his warm breath brushing against her already flushed cheeks made her tremble. She wished she could understand him, or that he could understand her. All she could do was hope that the love she felt for him would show in how well she pleased him. If she could.

“Belle,” he groaned, and she was about to grin in reply when he gripped her wrist and stopped her hand from moving anymore. She pouted and leaned back. “I won’t… last, if you keep doing that.”

He didn’t look angry or displeased with her. That was the only thing that kept her from feeling rejected. His voice had faltered, and his eyes looked almost apologetic, so Belle gave him a nod and hoped it would be enough to reassure him.

With a weak smile, Rumple slipped his hand into hers and stepped back to the bed. He sat down where he’d been when she first kissed him, and tugged her down into his lap again. She went willingly, letting her smile return as she straddled him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He spoke again, worry written clear in the lines of his face, and Belle dipped down to peck a quick kiss to his lips. His shoulders relaxed under her arms, a smile twitched at his mouth, and that seemed to be all he’d needed to reassure him that that was exactly where she wanted to be.

Shuffling further forward into his lap, she pushed herself up onto her knees and grasped him again. His body tensed, and Belle took a deep breath before guiding him into her and sinking down onto his length.

Then she froze.

She squeezed her eyes against the unknown feeling of being so full, and Rumple seemed to sense that. He kissed his way down her neck, nipping at the curve where it met her shoulder. It wasn’t a hard bite, but the pleasant sting was enough to distract her from the discomfort between her legs. She panted with ragged breaths as she got used to the feeling of him inside her, and nodded at him when he pulled back to search her face.

He said something else then, but Belle cut him off as she raised herself back up and pushed herself down much slower than the first time she’d sank onto him. The discomfort had subsided, and was replaced with a little ball of pleasure as she did it again and again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed their foreheads back together, desperate to get even closer to him.

In return, Rumple ran his hands up her back, and she wondered if her arms around him felt as good as his hands did on her.

“I love you,” he panted, and Belle leaned back to catch the earnest pleading in his eyes. It sent a tingle through her, and when he brought his hands around to cup her breasts, the little ball of building pleasure between her legs burst, sending it rippling through her body.

It felt different to the first time he’d made that happen. A warmth filled her and he let out a deep groan against her neck, letting her know he’d reached his own climax. She hugged him against her chest and ran her fingers through his hair.

Everything slowed down, their breathing calmed and the hot flush of their bodies began to cool, but Belle wasn’t disappointed to lose those feelings. She felt perfectly content, and she smiled against the top of Rumple’s head when he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispered into her neck. “I’ll find a way to keep us together.”


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Maplesyrup for beta'ing this chapter and all the others, and thank you to everyone who's left kudos and commented along the way. I'm both sad and happy this story's finished, and that it's had such a good response. It's really meant a lot.

He was no stranger to the art of making a deal. He knew to bide his time, it was something he did very well, and it always paid off. The desperate would often find a way to try and turn a deal to their advantage, or to try and get out of a deal. But he wasn’t desperate. He knew to wait, and eventually the right opportunity would present itself. Like this one.

It looked like the morning after a terrible storm. The clouds were black and the sea was grey and choppy, rising off the canvas with expert strokes. Mr. Gold looked over the chaos of the seascape painting, nodding thoughtfully. It was certainly worth something, and painted by an artist skilled enough to evoke _something_ in him. It made him more inclined to deal for the painting.

“I think we could come to some arrangement, Miss Blanchard,” he said at last.

“Really?” she asked, in a timidly hopeful voice. It was no secret between them that the school teacher would struggle to pay her rent that month, but both of them skirted around the issue, and pretended that her desperation to sell that painting was nothing to do with her desperation to pay her rent.

“Yes,” he assured her, lying the painting flat on the counter. “Leave it with me and I’ll have a value for you by next week.”

“Next week?” Mary Margaret worried. “But I… Can’t you do it a little sooner?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And why would I do that?”

She stared at him, meeting his eyes without flinching, and Mr. Gold briefly found himself wondering if there was more to the meek, timid little school teacher. But then she winced and looked away, and the thought was gone.

“Please,” she said quietly, wringing her hands together. Mr. Gold glanced at one of the many clocks in his little antique shop, and sighed. It was almost time for him to close for the day, and he’d hate to be late.

“Three days, Miss Blanchard,” he said abruptly, taking the painting off the counter and sliding it into a stack of others he still had to value. Mary Margaret looked at him with a mixture of relief and suspicion.

“Three days,” she repeated, nodding. “Right. Yes. Thank you, Mr. Gold. I’ll see you then!”

“Indeed.”

She scurried out of the shop quickly, as if she feared he’d suddenly take back his promise. The bell above his door jingled in her wake, and he set about locking up. He made a note of the painting, double checked the safe, then the cash register, and gave the whole front room a once over before he was satisfied that all was well and he could return to the comfort of his home.

Some people believed he lived in his shop, he mused as he balanced his cane in the crook of his arm and locked up. He’d never been able to work out why people thought that about him, but there were worse rumours circulating for that one to particularly bother him. It amused him more than anything. Why would he live in his shop when he had--

“A large estate,” a woman interrupted his thoughts. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I do hope I didn’t forget anything.”

"Madam Mayor," he said blandly, slipping the shop key into his inside pocket. "Is there a reason you're loitering outside my shop?"

He turned to face her and caught an odd look on her face, before she schooled her expression into a bored little smile. But he’d caught it. There’d been shock there, in the way her eyes widened when she saw his face and flicked down to his cane as he settled it by his feet.

"I saw you locking up and thought I'd stop to say hello," she said conversationally, lying. "And to see if you're happy with our deal."

He frowned and stepped around her to get to his car. "And what deal would that be, dear?" he entertained, unlocking the Cadillac door.

"Oh, you know--" She faltered, as he glanced at her over his shoulder. Something was off about her. Either she was up to something or she was after something. Not that it really mattered. Regina wasn’t subtle or smart enough to keep the answer from him for long.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” she finished.

“Remember what?” He pointedly opened the car door without looking at her. She was going to make him late if he didn’t get rid of her soon, and he hated being late.

“Oh, nothing,” she said pleasantly, too pleasantly. "I hope you have everything you wanted."

"How... thoughtful," he said slowly, turning to face her fully. "Are you feeling well?"

She bristled. "Yes, why?"

"The job's not wearing you down?" He pretended to study her face, narrowing his eyes. “You do look tired, dear. Perhaps you should go home.”

Her amiable smile had quickly fallen, and all pretence that they were anything but the occasional business partners dropped. Regina frowned at him, twisting her dark red lips into a mockery of a smile.

“Is that where you’re going?” she shot back. “Back to that big, silent house?”

Mr. Gold didn’t rise to her bait. He even managed a smile, albeit a fleeting one, that bared his teeth in an almost-snarl.

“The house may be silent, Madam Mayor,” he agreed sharply, “but at least it isn’t empty.”

The look of shock, unbidden, satisfied Gold enough to turn his back on her and slip into his car. He slid the keys into the ignition and set his cane down beside his seat. He had nothing else to say to her, and she was still quietly fuming as he closed the Cadillac door and started to drive away.

He drove the same route every day, Monday to Friday when the shop was open, and walked the same path when it was time to collect the rent. Weekends -- when they didn’t fall on rent day -- and the evenings, were his chance to shut out the rest of Storybrooke. He could ignore his tenant’s dislike and distrust of him. He could forget about the therapist and his dog, who he drove past every day, and the tall waitress as she put out the sign for Granny’s every morning. None of it mattered.

In those moments, when the world was shut out, only one thing mattered to the infamous landlord.

Pulling into the driveway of the large, pink victorian, Mr. Gold grasped his cane and fumbled with his keys. The little glass chimes hanging in the porch tinkled softly in the wind, welcoming him home. A quick glance at the grandfather clock in the hall, as he stepped inside and shrugged off his overcoat, told him that he was only a minute or two late.

He kicked off his shoes at the bottom of the stairs, slipped off his tie at the top, and had his blazer half-off as he limped down the hall, leaning heavily on his cane. The house was still, but that didn’t worry him too much. It was once he entered the bedroom, and heard the splashing of water from the en suite, that he relaxed and threw his jacket and waistcoat carelessly onto the bed.

The vision that met him in the bathroom, the same time every day he returned home from work, never failed to take his breath away. She sat up in the bath, lifting her head out of the water, and her beautiful brown hair clung to her back and shoulders. Soap suds slid down her glistening skin, over the little pearl necklace he’d given her for their anniversary, and his fingers itched to reach out and touch her.

She brushed her hair back and smiled at him, with blue eyes that twinkled bright and happily. He still didn’t believe he deserved to have someone as wonderful as her looking at him like that.

In those moments, when the world was shut out, the only thing that mattered to him was her. They’d built up a routine to fit around his busy work schedule and she was always home before him, after closing the library; waiting for him with a beautiful smile and a relaxing bath.

“Good day, sweetheart?” he asked, propping his cane against the edge of the tub.

She nodded happily, watching him as he began to unbutton his shirt, and lifted her hands.

“Will you join me?” she signed, biting her lip and making him smile.

“I can think of nothing I’d rather do more,” Gold answered.

 

* * *

 

_Some years later…_

Most days, Mr. and Mrs. Gold would go to work separately. Gold favoured his car to save his leg the pain of walking too far, and to get to work early. Mrs. Gold preferred to walk, especially when it was such a bright day.

That morning felt different, and Gold had allowed himself to be persuaded by his wife’s enthusiasm for being out in the sun. He’d regret it later. For now, he was going to enjoy walking arm-in-arm with his wife.

“Mr. and Mrs. Gold!” Dr. Hopper called out, guiding his dog across the street to talk to them. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

Gold wanted to carry on walking, with nothing but a grunt in answer to Hopper’s small talk, but his wife had other plans. She stopped, held his arm tight so he couldn’t keep moving, and lifted her hand to her face.

“Beautiful!” she signed, with a bright smile to match her enthusiastic gesture. “How are you?”

Hopper watched her hands closely. As much as Gold had no time for the man, or anyone in Storybrooke, he couldn’t direct his irritation at Hopper. He had at least made an attempt to learn sign language.

“On a morning like this?” Hopper asked, smiling and stroking his dog’s head. “I can’t complain.”

“Indeed.”

Gold wasn’t adverse to sunny mornings. What he didn’t like was early morning small talk when he wanted to get to work. Or any small talk. He looked down the street as the two of them carried on talking. Hopper struggled with a few of her signs, but for the most part he kept up and treated her with respect. That was all Gold wanted.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Hopper said eventually.

They exchanged goodbyes and Gold tried to continue their walk, but she stopped him with a quick tug on his arm, and waited for him to turn and look at her.

“Be nice to Archie,” she signed.

She used a similar sign to _umbrella_  for Archie’s name, and Gold looked away to hide his smile. She had given all her friends name signs instead of signing out each letter of their name, and the signs she’d chosen for each of them never failed to make him smile.

“I’m not impolite to him,” he said, but she didn’t look satisfied with that answer.

“Be nice,” she signed again, and slipped her arm through his to keep walking.

They weren’t far from his shop. The rest of the short walk went by in comfortable silence, with her resting her head against his arm. He’d never know how she could be so open with her love. None of her friends, and she had many, could understand her being married to him. Yet she was unashamed with all her shows of affection.

When they stopped for him to unlock his shop, she slipped her arms around his middle and pressed herself against his back. A light pressure between his shoulders told him she’d kissed the back of his blazer.

“People are going to see,” he teased.

“Don’t care,” she signed awkwardly in front of his stomach.

Laughing under his breath, Gold pushed open the shop door and took one of her hands. He kissed the back of it and stepped to the side.

“After you,” he said, bowing his head.

With a smile, which could either be of thanks or amusement, she squeezed his hand and stepped in ahead of him. He always arrived to work early, which meant that she wouldn’t need to open the library for at least another half an hour. He had her all to himself until then.

Setting her purse on the counter, beside the till, she leaned back against the glass and smiled. Gold closed the front door behind him and leaned against it, mimicking her. She smirked and pointed at him.

“You’re handsome,” she signed.

Gold snorted as he opened the blinds at the front of the shop.

“You always say that.”

“It’s true,” she insisted with wide, honest eyes, and lifted her hand to her face. “Handsome and _grumpy_.” She made a face, frowning and pouting her lips, and it had exactly the desired effect. He laughed, and her face lit up. “That’s better.”

“It’s hard to be grumpy with you here,” he said.

With a pleased smile, she set about looking through his new stock. She came to his shop often, but she came to see him, and she rarely had a chance to look through all the things he’d hoarded _like a magpie_. He’d never tell anyone that, while Hopper’s name sign was similar to _umbrella_ , his own was a cross between the letter _G_ and the sign for _bird_.

She enjoyed doing that one, with her fingers pinched next to her pouting lips like she meant to kiss him, or tease him. Probably both.

She looked through a small stack of old books while he went over his ledgers for that day’s rent. She was content to do that before she had to start work, and he couldn’t stop himself from being drawn away from his work, just so he could see the little frowns of concentration on her face, or her eyes lighting up with some new, fascinating discovery.

When he looked up at her for a fourth time, she had moved on from the books and found a golden music box hidden behind a vase of flowers. She lifted it with both hands and carefully turned it over. He didn’t remember that box being there, but something about seeing it in her hands made Gold feel like it belonged there.

“Do you want it?” he offered, and she jumped like a child caught playing with something she shouldn’t.

She turned to face him with a sheepish smile and shook her head.

“I can’t,” she tried to sign, but her pointing was hindered by her insisting on holding the box with both hands.

“Of course you can,” he said, grabbing his cane.

He rounded the counter to take the box from her, and she watched him closely as he set it down and opened it up. A light, lullaby-like melody filled the air, and that same something tugged at the back of his mind. It was strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place the tune.

She reached out, entranced, and brushed her finger lightly over the spinning couple inside.

“Do you want it?” he asked again.

Nodding, she closed the lid and hugged him tight. He supposed that was her own way of saying thank you.

“It’s no matter,” he dismissed, straightening the front of his suit when she stepped away. It was ridiculous how she could fluster him when they’d been married for goodness knew how many years, and there was no one else in the shop to see them.

She continued to poke around the shop, until it came time for her to go to work, and she carried the little music box with her under her arm.

They walked together to the library, conveniently set just across the road from his shop. There were a lot of conveniences in that town. Like the beach being only a short walk from the main street. It meant he could pick up lunch from Granny’s, take his wife to sit beside the sea, and be back at work in time for the end of their lunch break. And having his shop on the main street made him accessible to anyone who wanted to make a deal, or to pay rent. Not that many people went to his shop for the latter. Most of his tenants seemed happy to make him walk all over Storybrooke to collect his money.

“I’m collecting rent later,” he reminded as she unlocked the library. “Would you like to come with me?”

With only a moment’s consideration, she nodded and slipped her keys into her purse. She didn’t usually go with him, but why not break with tradition once in a while.

“I’ll be going to Granny’s,” he warned.

“I want to go,” she insisted with hurried hands, and pointed to her eyes with a playful smile.

“To keep an eye on me?” he guessed, putting his hand over his heart. Her smile widened into a bright grin as she nodded and pulled open the library door. “I have a feeling Mrs. Lucas can look after herself.”

Holding the door open with her foot, she lifted her hand to her chest.

“I have to look after _you_ ,” she signed, jabbing her finger at his chest, and Gold straightened his back.

He did his best to look indignant, but that was near impossible with his wife smiling at him, her eyes twinkling with mirth. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling back, especially when she leaned forward to kiss him.

“Have a good morning, sweetheart,” he said, stealing another kiss before she could step away.

With a quiet laugh she pointed to herself, drummed her hand over her heart, and pointed at him.

“I love you, too,” he returned.

Biting her lip, as if she’d never get tired of him saying that, she waved and let the library door close behind her.


	11. Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Maplesyrup!! This is an extra chapter because she’s awesome and the best friend, and I couldn’t resist the chance to write these two again.

Something wasn’t right.

She often went into her husband’s shop when they met up for lunch, but something felt off that morning. Something about Mr. Gold’s shop, with its ticking clocks, pristinely polished silvers, and first edition books, felt unfamiliar.

It was like stepping in there for the first time.

She’d felt that way since waking up that morning. She'd woken with a strange dream fading in her mind, and an even stranger name on her lips. It was the sort of dream that was easily forgotten, until something happened to bring the memory back. Her husband had made her tea, and when he handed her the cup and their fingers brushed, a flash of the dream came back to her. Clawed fingers stroked lightly over her hand, and she gasped, almost dropping the cup.

He’d worried and asked her if she was okay, but she’d brushed him off and nodded quickly. It was an unusual dream. Signing it, trying to explain it to him, would be embarrassing. Especially when more of the dream came back to her later that morning. She’d been shelving books in the library when she remember those same hands, strong and warm, pushing her against bookshelves and hiking up her dress.

It had left her flushed and flustered and unable to concentrate until lunch. Then she’d locked up, hurried across to her husband’s shop, and the feeling of unfamiliarity had hit her. She stepped forward carefully, her heels clicking dully across the wood floor, and tried to take in every little trinket on display. It was overwhelming just how much he had in there. There were creepy puppets, a glass mobile, and a whole cabinet full of vintage jewellery.

He really was like a magpie, she thought fondly, and absently played with the little pearl hanging from her neck as she leaned over the glass. He was drawn to beautiful things, especially if those things shined. Most of the pieces in the cabinet were gold, but there were some silver rings and a silver necklace holding a diamond pendant.

Humming thoughtfully, she inspected her wedding ring. The diamonds, set into a silver band, glittered as she wiggled her fingers and held up her hand to compare it to the necklace. They would go nicely, but then she’d have to take off her pearl necklace.

“Sweetheart?” a voice called softly from behind her. She dropped her hand quickly and turned to him, greeting him with a smile. “Is it lunchtime already?”

Gold came over to her, leaning a little heavier than usual on his cane, and she hurried forward to meet him. He was wearing a blue tie, her favourite one, with the paisley and matching pocket square, and she couldn’t help but straighten it when he was close enough. Any excuse to touch him.

“Perfect,” she signed, smoothing it down with her hand. “I like this suit.”

He smiled at her compliment, but she hadn’t answered his question and Gold wasn’t about to let her flattery distract him.

She made his sign name, pinching her forefinger and thumb next to her pouting lips, but that didn’t work, either. He only smirked and shook his head. Her light teasing did nothing to ease his concern. She dropped her hand, still pouting, and sighed.

She always complimented him, and there was always a little voice in his head that stopped him from believing her praise. It wouldn’t be enough to stop him from worrying about her.

She tapped her temple and twisted her hands in front of her chest, making the sign for _change_.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked.

Despite the way she felt, a small smile flickered across her face. He always paid such close attention to her signs, she didn’t really need to sign a full sentence for him to know what she was saying. But the brief smile fell at the thought of going to the sea that day. They went to the beach most days for lunch, but today she didn’t want to. There was no real reason _why_ , she just felt wrong.

She shrugged and waved her hands vaguely, not really signing anything at all but telling him all he needed to know.

Nothing about being in that shop felt right. She knew the shop, but she didn’t. She knew the beach, but didn’t feel like she belonged there. Everything felt out of place, like a jigsaw piece that didn’t quite fit, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of those clawed hands from her skin.

The only thing that felt right, that felt real, was _him_. She knew her husband. It felt right when he reached for her and held her arm, with a strong, warm hand, silently asking her to tell him what was wrong. But she couldn’t. She knew both American and British sign language, and she didn’t have the right signs to explain to him why everything felt like it was tilted out of place.

She stepped up to him, curved her hand around his where he gripped his cane, and leaned forward. He closed the final gap between them, meeting her with a kiss. Her hand grasped his a little tighter and he pulled her closer, grounding her in the moment.

She wanted to keep her eyes open -- to see and remember every moment for the rest of the day, and not the clawed creature who’d had her in her dreams -- but the kiss was so sweet and his touch so exciting that she couldn't stop her eyes from slipping shut. Every other sense took over; the softness of his hair twined around her fingers; the faint traces of tea on his lips. He was firm, with a lingering scent of the woods and leather and something brewing, and her legs felt weaker than they ever had.

It was all overwhelming and all she wanted. It was the only thing that felt real and Melody had to hold onto him to keep herself from falling. Through their lips, their noses pressed against each others cheeks, and her hand gripping his, she tried to press herself as close to him as possible.

She'd once wondered what it would be like to kiss him, when they’d first met. She’d been… hurt? No, that wasn’t right.

_“I’m trying to heal you, you ridiculous creature.”_

The memory came to her slowly, in pieces, like a stream trickling through rocks. The voice was higher and agitated, but too similar to her husband’s to not be real.

She pushed him away and held his hand even tighter all at once. Their kiss ended with a smack of their lips and a surprised hum from him, but all she could hear was _that_ voice. It was softer now, speaking to her of tea and bells and love. No. Not bells… Bell--

"Melody?" he asked, out loud and not in her head. “What is it?”

That’s right. That was her name. The stream stopped running, blocked by the rocks in its path, and her mind cleared. She looked at him, at his warm brown eyes filled with concern, and the flush in his well-kissed lips, and shook her head.

 _The library_ , she thought. They’d met when he came into the library to research something. Of course they had, how had she forgotten that?

Melody put her fingers to her forehead.

“Headache,” she signed, smiling and waving a hand when concern deepened the lines on his face. She couldn’t have that.

Cupping his cheeks, she smoothed her thumb over the lines either side of his mouth, and leaned in to brush the tips of their noses together.

“Come sit down,” he said gently, guiding her into the back room with his hand on her back, and over to the little bed in the corner. She remembered being surprised when he’d first invited her in and she saw he had a bed back there. But then she realised that it was just another sign of how lonely he must have been. Gold had lived for his work, to the point where he’d rarely left that little shop, not even to sleep.

Nowadays, since they were married, the bed had been used for more exciting things.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as the memory of his hands on her thighs, his hips moving between her legs, came back to her. His skin glistened with sweat and looked almost golden in the yellow lights of the back room.

“Are you hot?” he asked, snapping her away from those salacious thoughts and up to where he hovered over her. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and she bit back a smile.

“You,” she signed, “make me hot.” She swiped her hand across her forehead and pretended to swoon, falling back with a gentle bounce onto the bed.

He snorted and dropped his head, shaking it, but she could see his smile no matter how hard he tried to hide it. She beamed up at him and he readjusted his cane in his hand.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Shaking her head adamantly, Melody reached for his hand. Gold stopped, half-turned away from her, and she tugged on him until he understood what she meant. He sat on the bed beside her, propping his cane against the headboard, and she sat up to kneel beside him.

He watched her closely, probably waiting to see if she signed anything, and she shuffled closer until her knees met his thigh.

“How was your morning?” Melody signed, leaning closer to him still.

His eyes dropped to the top of her dress, and she smiled when he met her eyes again and realised she’d caught him looking. It was a tea dress -- the one she knew he liked, with a deep V neckline and blue flowers -- and she leaned even further forward.

“Good enough,” he said with a slowly growing smirk when he realised what she was doing. “I sold that Victorian mirror you loved so much.”

Melody curled her lip and shook her head.

“I did not!” she signed, pushing his shoulder playfully when he chuckled at her.

The mirror had been a tall, oval thing with a spiked, black frame. It was by far the worst thing he had in his shop. It reminded her of the Mayor, and she told him as much, making Regina’s sign name with the index and little finger of one held stuck out like horns.

The corners of Gold’s lips curved up. “Who do you think I sold it to?”

Pressing her lips together to keep herself from smiling at his cunning, she untucked her legs from underneath herself and draped them over his lap.

“I don’t trust her,” she signed, making the same horned sign as before. Gold had often told her that she was too trusting, that she gave people too many chances and worried about people who didn’t deserve her kindness, but that kindness had never extended towards Regina. Of all the people in Storybrooke, the mayor was the only one who’d treated her differently for not being verbal. Whenever the library’s budget needed to be discussed, Regina made her write down what she wanted to say. And that wasn’t including the times Melody had caught the mayor trying to goad her husband. She didn’t understand the rivalry between the two of them, and although he seemed to enjoy ruffling Regina’s feathers just as much as she ruffled his, Melody didn’t like it.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and played with the hair at the back of his neck. He may not have been the most amicable person in town, but he didn’t deserve to be singled out or taunted.

“Neither do I, sweetheart,” he said, frowning. “Has she been to the library today?”

Melody shook her head and he sighed with relief. There’d been more than one occasion where she’d marched into his shop to complain about the way Regina had spoken to her, or him, or to any of her friends.

“Does she--”

She shook her head hard, making her hair fall around her face, and Gold stopped talking. She didn’t want to talk about that woman anymore, and he could see that. He curled his arm around her waist, drew her closer, and pulled her up into his lap.

“Better?” Gold teased, stroking his hand across her bare thigh where her dress rode up. His warm hand on her, touching her with such familiarity in the same way the clawed hand had, sent an excited jolt down low in her stomach. She pressed her legs together and he smiled, doing it again. “Melody?”

Nodding, she lifted herself up, careful not to put any weight on his leg, and straddled him. He gripped her hips under her dress, and Melody shivered at how warm and good his hands on her felt. She pointed to herself, drummed her hand over her heart, and pointed at him. Her fingertip lingered over his heart, and she traced the length of his tie up to the knot around his neck. His fingers dug into her, just slightly, when she pulled at the tie to loosen it.

“I love you, too,” he rasped, sitting perfectly still as she took his tie off.

His tie pin, made of gold with engraved lines around the edge, fell into the folds of her dress. She picked it up, admired how it shined as she turned it over, and looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. He knew what was coming, he was already shaking his head before she pouted her lips and made his sign name again. It was inspired by the sign for _bird_ , and although he always objected to the idea of him being a magpie, it always made him smile.

He stole a kiss from her already pouted lips and shook his head.

“I’m not a magpie,” he disagreed, plucking the pin from her fingers. He set it down carefully on a cabinet beside the bed, and Melody sighed heavily. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Scowling, as if he’d ruined her fun, she pushed her hands against his shoulders and lifted herself up. But he held her waist and pulled her back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, holding her in place. She could already feel him through her underwear, tucked away in his trousers, and she wiggled against him to see if she could make him harder.

“Melody,” he half-whispered, holding her tighter as she rocked her hips against him. “What are you doing?”

For all the unease she’d felt that morning, and all the unusual dreams she’d been having, none of that could take away from one simple thing. She loved him and wanted him, and he was the only thing that felt right.

“Hopefully,” she signed, crossing her fingers and pointing at him, “ _you_.”

He chuckled, but before she could tell him just how serious she was, he drew her into a hungry kiss. It was surprising, but not unwelcome. She pressed herself firmly against him and tugged and pulled at his waistcoat, until she’d unfastened every button and he’d stopped kissing her to trail his lips down her neck. He nipped her and she gasped, twisting his shirt in her fists.

“Did you lock the door?”

Grinning, she shook her head and unfastened another button on his shirt.

“Naughty girl,” he growled. His voice rumbled deep in his chest and her heart began to race. She tried to pull off his shirt but her hands shook too much and she couldn’t think clearly with his hands on her, holding her against the bulge of his cock.

He must have felt her trembling, because he pulled back to search her face. The concern returned to his dark eyes before he realised that the only reason she was shivering was because of _him_. She wanted him, and it was starting to interfere with her very important task of undressing him.

Covering her hands, Gold guided them up to his shoulders and her eyes roamed down his bare chest as he undid the final few buttons himself. She touched him, sliding her hands over his heated skin and down to his stomach, and Gold returned her tentative caresses. He ran his hand up her thigh and slipped it under her dress.

She lifted her hand to tell him how handsome he was, but he cupped the back of her head and stopped her with another kiss. She didn't mind, he never believed her anyway, and he was so good at kissing that she let it go and eagerly kissed him back. If he didn’t believe her words, she could tell him how much she liked him through their kiss.

Tangling her fingers in his hair, she leaned into him and parted her lips to his tongue. All the while his hands moved over her leg and up her back, holding her to his chest.

His fingers ghosted over her centre, pushing her underwear aside. Melody gasped, breaking their kiss, and bucked her hips against him without thinking.

“Is this what you came here for?” he teased, and she nodded, biting down harder on her lip. Her nod had made him smile and that little lopsided smirk always did it for her. It could be so amused and darkly-confident, a little more of the self assured Mr. Gold the rest of the town saw, and she loved seeing him being so sure of himself; knowing he was having an effect on her.

He shook his head, but she didn’t understand why until he kissed her and sucked her lower lip between his teeth.

“Mm-- Don’t silence yourself.”

While his confident smile was attractive, she loved him even more when he didn’t let her stay silent. Words may have been lost to her, but she still had a voice and he was the only one she ever felt comfortable using it around. He didn’t mind her wordless sounds. He encouraged them.

Her first instinct was to bite her lip again, but she stopped herself and allowed herself a sigh as the feeling of his fingers overtook her. Her sighs started off soft and breathy, but when he slipped his fingers between her folds, she couldn’t stop the short, excited moans that escaped her.

“You make the most wonderful sounds,” he said around heavy breaths, and leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, “My Melody.”

She rocked her hips against him, and he curled his fingers inside her. It was messy, his voice in her ear and hand working her had her whole body desperately bucking against him; reaching for that peak that was just out of reach.

Letting out a frustrated huff, she opened her eyes to find him watching her, as if he couldn’t believe she was real. Or he couldn’t believe she was really with him. _Silly man_. She pecked kisses to his lips and jaw, and groaned when he pulled his fingers out of her. It hadn’t quite been enough to give her what she wanted, but she still missed the feel of him inside her.

“What do you want?” he asked against her lips. “Show me what you want.”

For just a moment, that higher, different voice that wasn’t quite her husband’s was back. She heard it clearly, felt his clawed hands stroking her, and it had her trembling with a new wave of _want_.

“Melody?”

She wanted _more_. More of him, more of this, and more of those dreams that felt so real she could almost believe they were.

“Lie back,” she signed, and although he listened and lifted his legs onto the bed, Melody still pushed him down.

She positioned herself over his hips and fumbled with his belt until it and his trousers were out of her way. The belt was thrown to the side without a care, and Gold lifted his hips to help her as she undressed him. The look of awed disbelief was still clear on his face, no matter how much he tried to hide it behind her favourite smile. She ran her hands down his body, before they came to his boxers, and she pulled them down slowly, sticking her tongue out in concentration.

He still wore his shirt and waistcoat, but they fell apart and gave her a lovely view of his chest and stomach. She didn’t bother telling him how lovely it was, not this time, because actions always seemed to speak louder for him than her words. So she put her hand on his stomach instead, took his cock into her other hand, and guided him into her as she sank down on top of him.

He groaned as she stretched around him, and she sighed happily as he filled her. _This_ , she decided as she looked down at him, with his hair a mess on his pillow and his shirt rumpled and askew, was exactly what she wanted.

While she ignored what most people said about him, there was something exciting about seeing the stern, feared Mr. Gold underneath her, breathing heavily and completely at her mercy.

Melody smiled at him, linked her fingers through his, and used his hands for support as she slowly lifted herself up his length. She kept her movements slow, almost painfully slow, and he was good enough to stay as still as he could. He let her have her way with him, to set her own pace, but she could see the strain of that control in his face. He rolled his head back and groaned, and Melody took pity on him.

Pushing his hands down onto the pillow, either side of his head, she started to ride him faster. He grunted as she slammed down harder onto his cock. Each sound he made, even the breathless ones that faintly sounded like her name, added fuel to the feelings that were gradually reaching and growing low inside her.

"That's right," he rumbled in her ear. "Take what you need from me."

She did. Or, she tried to. Her whole body burned with desire and shook with the excitement and need of it all. She was almost there. Almost.

“Are you close, sweetheart?” he asked, and all she could do was huff and nod. She was close, so close she could almost feel it, but she struggled to reach the edge she was chasing.

Gold pulled his hand free of hers, and she gripped the pillow in her fist as he reached down between them. Her mind was so foggy and full of _feeling_ that she didn’t stop to wonder what he was doing until she felt his fingers teasing at her folds.

Her eyes flew open and she found him watching her, heavy-lidded and as dazed as she was, but with enough wherewithal to know she needed a little push. His thumb circled over her clitoris and she cried out, riding him harder and with a rekindled desperation.

His breathing grew ragged and she knew he was as close as she was. She clenched her muscles around him and doubled down her efforts, trying to push them both over their peaks together. She moaned unashamedly as her climax neared, and clasped his hand even tighter when it swept over her, shaking through her whole body.

Gold followed on her heels, filling her and groaning in her ear. A satisfied lightness filled her body, and Melody collapsed on top of him. She released his hand to play with his hair, and he buried his face in her neck. His warm breath panting against her flushed skin made her tingle, and she leaned back to look at him.

“We should eat something,” he said, but didn’t try to move or make her move from on top of him. Which was good because she had no intentions of moving any time soon.

“I have an idea,” she signed, pointing at her head. “I know what I want to eat.”

Chuckling, deep and raspy, Gold shook his head and closed his eyes. He would have looked almost like he was ready to sleep, if not for the crinkle of a smile around his eyes.

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered fondly.

She was, Melody decided, and she wasn’t sorry about it at all. She loved him and she loved being with him. Peppering his face with kisses, she laughed and squirmed on top of him when he ran his hands up her sides, tickling her in retaliation. She’d have to get him back for that.

"Where," he started, pausing when she kissed his lips, "do you get your energy?"

Melody sat back and shrugged, brushing her hands down his chest. These were some of her favourite moments with him, after she’d had her way with him. Everything was relaxed and open, and he let her draw invisible lines over his stomach without any hint that he was self conscious about his older body.

"Sweetheart, I'm--" The shop bell rang out and they stiffened. Her eyes snapped up to his face, but he didn't seem as worried as she was. The thought of being caught was exciting, but actually being caught was another matter.

Slipping off his lap, Melody straightened her underwear and dress, but Gold was much more calm about sitting up and fixing the front of his trousers.

"Gold?"

Her heart started pounding again, for far less exciting reasons, when she heard _that_ voice calling out for her husband. Being caught by a friend wouldn’t be so bad, they could all laugh it off after, but this was Regina. Regina was the last person she wanted to know about her love life.

Gold, instead of answering the mayor, tapped her hand to get her attention. She turned to him and he put his finger to his lips. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him, but he pointed down at her heels. _Ah_.

"Your sign says you’re open," Regina called through, clipped and impatient. They both ignored her.

He lifted his hands and gestured something that was halfway between ringing a bell and the sign for _music_.

“Melody,” he signed, her sign name that he rarely used but which made her stop instantly. "Sit here," he added, pointing beside himself, and it didn't matter how uneasy she felt, Melody smiled at his unpractised gestures.

Carefully toeing off her shoes, she climbed back onto the bed and curled up by his side.

"She'll see us," she signed, and felt rather than saw him shake his head. She was too busy staring at the curtain, waiting for it to be thrown aside by Regina. Their clothes and hair were a mess. It would be obvious what she'd caught them doing.

Gold lifted his hands and drew her attention back to him. "She won't come back here."

"Come," she signed, crooking her finger as if to correct him. He frowned and copied her, and Melody pressed her lips together when she saw the moment he realised she was teasing him. His eyes lit up and his own lips thinned, trying to keep himself quiet.

"Don't," he signed. "I'll laugh."

In the other room, Regina's heels clicked as she slowly walked around the shop. She paused once or twice, probably stopping to inspect whatever antiques had caught her eye. Or to snoop, Melody corrected herself. It was much more likely she was snooping while she thought Gold had carelessly left his shop unlocked and unattended. Regina probably blamed her for that. She'd made more than one pointed jab about her being young and pretty. As if that's all she was to her husband.

“Good,” Melody returned with a thumbs up. “I like your laugh.”

He rolled his eyes, and she knew he’d have snorted if they weren’t trying to be quiet.

“You have a nice laugh,” she insisted, with big, insistent gestures. She was about to sign more, but Gold held her hands and shook his head. Her frown softened, and she heard Regina’s heels nearing the curtain.

She wanted to pull her hands free and hide, or wrap them up in the duvet. It would already be obvious what they’d been doing on that bed, at least being under the duvet would offer them some cover.

She held her breath, listening and waiting as the footsteps came closer.

“Gold?” Regina called through the curtain. “Are you hiding in there?”

Melody held her breath and he held her hands a little tighter.

And then it was over. Regina walked straight out of the shop, slamming the door shut harder than necessary, and she felt like she could breathe again. Her shoulders sagged and she sucked in a breath, letting the tension leave her.

“How did you know?” she asked, but Gold only shrugged, frowning as if there didn’t seem to be any answer behind it.

“She’s never set foot in here,” he said, returning to straightening his shirt. “I don’t know why.”

Humming in response, Melody tugged at the hem of her dress and watched him making himself more presentable. It was a shame, really. He looked so nice when he was all ruffled and well-loved.

Regina had never been to their house, either, and she only spoke to Melody when she was in the public part of the library. She never went into the staffroom.

It was almost as if, and Melody knew this was ridiculous to even consider, Regina wanted to give them their privacy. Which wasn’t like Regina at all.

“Where should we go for lunch?” he asked, leaning on his good leg as he reached for his belt on the floor. Melody grabbed it for him, and his tie, so he wouldn’t have to risk straining his other leg. He smiled in thanks and took them from her. He’d learned long ago not to brush away her worries for him.

“Home,” she signed, and combed her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her hand, like a cat, and Melody smiled as he let her fix his bad case of bedhead. “No interruptions,” she added. “Just the two of us.”

“Just the two of us?” he repeated. “What about your friends?”

“I want privacy,” she signed. Things still didn’t quite feel right. Being with him was helping to keep that feeling away, and she wanted to keep her contentment for as long as possible. With him and without interruptions.

“We could go to your cabin?” she suggested. He groaned, knowing what she was going to suggest before she suggested it. “I want to swim in the lake,” she finished with a pleased smile.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

She tapped her chin, eyes wide and imploring. " _Please_."

"I..." He tried to speak, but she leaned into to him and pouted. "We could go this weekend?"

Beaming triumphantly, she nodded before he could retract his offer and stood up. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d been to the cabin, and it had been even longer since she’d been swimming. Gold never swam himself, he always insisted it was because of his leg, but she knew he would be able to if he tried. There was something else holding him back, and maybe this weekend she could persuade him to join her.

She took his hand as he pulled himself to his feet, gripping his cane in the other hand.

“I can’t wait!” she signed, bouncing on her heels. Gold chuckled, offering her his arm, and she took it without hesitation. She didn’t need both hands to tell him what she wanted.

“Just the two of us,” she reminded, and he nodded.

“Just the two of us.”


End file.
